Where Love Heals

I kept myself locked
so long
I forgot if the key still worked.

And then you came—
with one of your own—
and let yourself in
like you had always known the way.

I didn’t question it.

You felt familiar.
Like something
I had been waiting for.

So I left the door open.

But you didn’t stay.

You came
when it was easy.
Left
when it wasn’t.

And I stood there—
door open,
heart the same—
waiting for something
that never arrived.

So I started to close it.

Slowly.
Carefully.

Like I could still protect
what I had already given away.

But you kept finding your way back in.

Not fully—
never fully—

just enough
to remind me
you could.

I wanted all of you.

You only brought pieces.

So one day,
I locked the door.

No space left open.
No light left on.
No waiting.

Because you were never safety.

You just felt like it.

And I still want you—
I do—

but not at the cost
of feeling unsafe
inside myself.

If it isn’t safe,
it isn’t home.

And you were never
mine.

JMS