Carried my heart in silence,
stitched it shut with resolve,
but your shadow pressed against me
until the seams began to fray.
I told myself I could hold it,
that you hadn’t earned the weight,
but your love has a way of begging
to be handed over anyway.
So here it is, raw and shaking,
the pulse I swore I’d hide
a flickering flame in your hands,
too bright, too fragile,
too much of me to take back.
I am not winning anymore.
I am not guarding anymore.
I am standing bare before you,
letting you feel how I break
when you breathe, when you turn,
when you leave.
Take it, then.
My heart is yours,
and with it, every reaction,
every silence, every storm.
This is what surrender looks like:
not in war,
but in love
losing myself
so you can finally see me.
Sep 1, 2025
Sep 1, 2025 at 8:14 PM UTC
Carried my heart in silence,
stitched it shut with resolve,
but your shadow pressed against me
until the seams began to fray.
I told myself I could hold it,
that you hadn’t earned the weight,
but your love has a way of begging
to be handed over anyway.
So here it is, raw and shaking,
the pulse I swore I’d hide
a flickering flame in your hands,
too bright, too fragile,
too much of me to take back.
I am not winning anymore.
I am not guarding anymore.
I am standing bare before you,
letting you feel how I break
when you breathe, when you turn,
when you leave.
Take it, then.
My heart is yours,
and with it, every reaction,
every silence, every storm.
This is what surrender looks like:
not in war,
but in love
losing myself
so you can finally see me.
