Where Love Heals

it’s strange
how it starts so simply—

two people
standing at the edge of each other
saying,
hi… this is who i am.

and we think that’s all it is.
an introduction.
a conversation.
nothing we won’t forget
in a few days.

so we ask the questions—
favorite food,
favorite music,
what makes you laugh,
what keeps you up at night—

like we’re not slowly
handing each other
the blueprint
to our hearts and then it deepens.

quietly, naturally.

until one day we’re no longer introducing ourselves—

we’re revealing ourselves.

and i let you see me.

not the surface version.
not the edited version.

the real one—
the one that feels too much,
thinks too much,
loves without brakes.

and you stayed.

you listened.
you learned me
like i was something worth knowing.

so i chose you.

and somewhere in all of that—
i believed
you chose me too.

---

i didn’t hold back.

i didn’t love carefully.
i didn’t give you pieces.

i gave you everything—
like love was something
you were meant to keep.

i believed in you
like people believe in forever.
like the universe
finally got it right.

and then—

you changed.

not all at once.
not loud enough
for me to call it out.

just enough
for me to feel it.

in the pauses.
in the distance.
in the way i started
reaching for you
and finding less.

you said it was temporary.

you said you wanted me.

you said just enough
to keep me there.

and i stayed.

even when i felt myself
starting to disappear.

because every time
i tried to leave,
you pulled me back—

with words,
with moments,
with just enough warmth
to make me forget
i was already freezing.

and i melted for you.

over and over again.

like i was built
to fall apart
in your hands.

---

and then you stopped.

not with a fight.
not with honesty.

just silence.

do you know
what silence does
when it replaces someone
who used to choose you?

it echoes.

it lingers.

it makes you question
everything—

what did i do?
what’s wrong with me?
what made me so easy
to walk away from?

was i too much?
not enough?
too loud?
too soft?

what part of me
didn’t deserve
to be chosen?

and after everything—
everything i gave you—

the last thing you gave me
was

awe.

two letters.

lowercase.
like i was nothing
that needed effort.

like i was a moment
you barely noticed
as you moved on.

and for a while—
that broke me.

not because of what you said—

but because of
what it meant.

how something
that felt like everything to me
could be so small to you.

---

but here’s where it shifts.

here’s where i stop
rewriting myself
to make sense of you.

because i see it now.

clearly.

i was never the problem.

i was real.
i was open.
i was brave enough
to be fully seen.

i loved you
without holding back—

and that is not weakness.

that is power.

you didn’t know
how to hold it.

you didn’t know
how to keep
what you asked for.

and that’s not on me.

---

so no—
i’m not asking anymore
why you stopped choosing me.

i’m asking
why i kept choosing you
after you showed me
you couldn’t.

and i have my answer now—

because i forgot
who i was.

but i remember now.

i remember
that i am not temporary.

i am not something
you almost love.

i am not two letters
typed without thought.

i am depth.
i am intention.
i am the kind of love
that changes people.

and if you couldn’t rise to meet me—

that’s not my loss.

that’s yours.

---

because one day,
you’re going to reach
for something real—

and realize
you had it.

and you answered it
with two letters.

---

but me?

i’m not waiting anymore.

i’m not wondering anymore.

i’m not shrinking
to fit inside someone else’s uncertainty.

i’m standing here— fully,
unapologetically,
whole.

and this time— i choose me.

JMS