Where Love Heals

I thought love
was supposed to feel like fire—

something that pulls,
that burns,
that keeps you reaching
even when it hurts.

And with you,
it did.

It was loud in my chest,
restless in my thoughts,
a constant ache
I kept calling something real.

And it was real—
for me.

I won’t take that away from myself.

I felt you
in a way that went beyond touch,
beyond moments,
beyond anything I could explain.

But you didn’t stay there with me.

You told me—
softly,
honestly—
that you wouldn’t.

And I stayed anyway,
hoping feeling would be enough
to make you choose me.

It wasn’t.

And now I see it—
not as something broken,
but as something complete.

Because love doesn’t lose its meaning
just because it isn’t returned.

It just changes shape.

And now—
I am learning something new.

That love can be quiet.
That it can be light.
That it can meet me
without making me question
where I stand.

And it doesn’t hurt.

It doesn’t pull or burn.

And maybe that’s what I’ve been missing—
not love,
but peace.

So I will keep what was mine—
the way I felt,
the way I loved—

and let go of what wasn’t.

Because I don’t need to be chosen
by someone who hesitates.

I am already someone
worth staying for.

And this time—

I’m choosing
the feeling that doesn’t hurt
to hold onto.

JMS