I wonder sometimes, am I on the right path?
Am I building us stronger or caught in the past?
Each step I take, I give all my heart,
but doubt sneaks in, tearing me apart.

I ask, I listen, I hold onto hope,
your gentle answers my saving rope.
They give me joy, they spark a flame,
but never quite say what I hope they’d name.

I long for words, simple and true,
to hear "I love you" from only you.
Not always from my lips first spoken,
but as a gift, whole and unbroken.

Still, I believe—oh, how I do—
that your love is strong, fierce, and true.
It shines in your care, in the things you give,
in the quiet ways you help me live.

Maybe you show love in ways unique,
in gestures far deeper than words can speak.
And that’s enough, I tell my soul,
because your love makes my spirit whole.

But if one day, without my cue,
those three small words come shining through,
I’ll hold them close, bright and clear,
a melody only my heart can hear.

Until that day, I’ll trust in this—
your steadfast care, your gentle bliss.
For even without the words I seek,
your love, my dear, is strong, not weak.

I stand in the mirror, searching my face,
for signs of change, for bits I’ve replaced.
I’ve fought to grow, to mend and refine,
to leave behind what was never mine.
Each day I rise, steady and slow,
trying to be someone I want you to know.

I’ve come so far, I can see it clear—
the battles won, the silenced fears.
I’m proud of the scars that no one can see,
proof of the strength that’s blooming in me.
But still, there’s doubt, sharp and cruel,
whispering rules I didn’t choose.

Am I enough? Am I changing too late?
Will love slip through at the hand of fate?
I try, oh I try, with every breath,
to give you a love that defies death.
But what if my steps aren’t swift or right,
what if I lose you in this fight?

I ache for more than just “almost there,”
I want to be someone who shows they care,
without the weight of fear or mistake,
without wondering what love might take.
But even as doubt grips my chest,
I know I’m doing my very best.

So I hold onto this truth I’ve found—
growth isn’t perfect, nor always profound.
It’s quiet steps, a trembling climb,
becoming better, one piece at a time.
And if love is real, as I believe it to be,
you’ll see the best still rising in me.

I may not be finished, but I stand here strong,
with a heart that’s learning where it belongs.
And I promise, with all that I am and will do,
I’ll keep getting better—for me and for you.

I just dont know how-
To laugh
To leave
To understand
To withstand
To smile
To cry
To hurt
To stay strong
To love
To compare
But I still don't want to
Be taught how I am supposed to
I just love the way I am.

Do you ever feel the overwhelming sense of gratitude pinched by an unwelcome sense of unworthiness?