Would you hold the weight of my silence,
Or hand it back like something broken?
Would you trace the cracks, or just notice them?
Would you speak when my voice has fled —
Or leave me echoing alone?

If I come not whole, but wounded —
Not glowing, but gasping —
Not dressed in grace, but grief —
Would you still call it love?

Because I’ve known touch that trembles at the first sign of depth.
I’ve seen eyes that glaze when pain speaks.
I need more than pretty promises in pastel vows.
I need someone who can stand in the storm
And still reach for my hand.

So I ask, not to test,
But to know:

If I wasnt all sunshine and rainbows but storms and darkness , would you love me?