I want to feel love again,
not the kind that bruises and breaks,
but the kind that breathes,
gentle and kind,
like the warmth of sunlight
after a long winter.
I crave connectionâ
to be held without fear,
to be seen without hesitation,
to love and be loved
without the weight of what came before.
But every step toward that desire
feels like a step into the unknown,
and the unknown has teeth.
I remember the taste of rejection,
how it sank deeper than any wound,
how it left me questioning
whether I was worth it,
whether love could ever find me again
after the pieces I lost.
There's a hesitation in me now,
a shiver before I reach out,
as if I might break again
before I even begin.
But the loneliness is louder than the fear,
and the hunger for something real
grows heavier each day.
What if I'm not enough?
What if I show all the broken parts of me
and no one stays to see them through?
What if love slips past me,
like water through my fingers,
too slippery to hold?
But still, I want to tryâ
to let myself believe that there is a love
that isn't tainted by the past,
a love that doesn't carry the weight
of mistakes I never made.
I want to open myself again,
to trust that vulnerability
won't always be a price
I have to pay with my soul.
Maybe this time,
I'll find the connection I've been craving.
Maybe this time,
the fear of rejection won't be louder
than the quiet promise of what could be.
Maybe.