I broke today—
went out for a walk
to the store
but couldn't make it
down the steps.

I broke today—
my pain has no taste
for hope—
it feeds instead
on the quiet rot
of waiting
too long
for a happy ending.

I broke today—
went back inside
and wished pain
would strike me down—
but all it did
was stay—
and make me numb.

Some mornings
she pulls the blanket over her head
like it owes her protection—
like maybe if she hides long enough
the world will forget to ask
if she's okay.

She brushes her teeth
like it's penance
not self-care—
stares in the mirror
like the reflection
did something wrong.

And you—
you sit there
in the soft quiet
between her sighs
and urges to disappear
loving her like she's music
instead of static.

You tell her she's not broken
and she only hears
that she has failed at hiding it.

You hold her hand
like it's a lighthouse
but she only sees
how she dims your light—
she thinks she is
an unfinished book
you keep trying to write
a happy ending for.

It must be hard sometimes
to be soft like a sunset
for someone who thinks
she's better in the dark—
to say you are beautiful
and have it ricochet
off her chest like bullets
she's learned to dodge.

She doesn't mean to be difficult—
she never learned
what to do with a love
that doesn't ask her to bleed for it—
she's used to love
with conditions—
small print that says
she'll stay, but only if you stay small.

And you—
you show up
your heart cracked open
like breakfast served
on a sad morning
she has forgotten how to eat—
you call her wonderful
even when she's all elbows
and apologies.

You love her like you've lost her
even though you decided long ago to stay—
while she's trying to remember
she deserves to inhale
and try to forget
you're just another disappointment
waiting to happen.

I have been
a wind-through-the-window kind of person
with a soft exit plan—
a packed suitcase in the corner of a room
just in case the light started to flicker
or someone looked at me
like they expected me to stay.

I have loved like a guest—
polite and distant
always one foot out the door—
I have left dinners half-eaten
kisses with eyes half-closed.

And then
there is you—
you didn't chain me to anything
you didn't beg
barter
or build a cage
and call it commitment—
you opened your hands
and your arms
and your heart—
and I said
I will lay next to you
as long as you need—
and i did
and always will.


We are learning the art of full breath
of unpacking without apology
of letting bones root in the shape of our laughter.

Sweetheart
I have come and gone
in lives that barely remembered me—
but in your life
I want to stay
as long as you want me to—
for the first time in a long time
I don't need an escape plan
and for the first time
home doesn't feel like a trap.

It feels like you
and I choose you
in hard times
and good times
over and over
like sunrise
like a favorite song
like the thing I never believed in
until you touched me—
and I am not going anywhere
unless you ask me to.

Some nights
I whisper I'm tired
and the walls think I mean
take a nap—
but I mean
tired like the last page
of a bad book.

I don't want to hurt myself
or you—
I just want
the hurting
to clock out
like—
does this story really need
another useless act
and a sequel—

My life feels like
a movie I didn't audition for
directed by chaos
scripted with anxiety
the plot twists aren't clever
just mean—
and I'm not a hero
I'm not even comic relief.

I sit through this film
every day
no popcorn
no bathroom breaks
and everyone says
stay for the ending
like they know it'll be worth it—
what if the credits just roll
over more pain
and some poorly scored soundtrack
what if I want to leave
before the lights come up
and the usher just stares
like I did something wrong.

I don't want to be proscribed
a reason to live
like it's a pill
I have to take with food
and guilt—
I want someone to say
you don't have to like the movie
to stay until the end—
but it's okay to hate it
it's okay
to feel sad
to feel done
to be felt
with a orange tulip
and hoping
for someone
to give it to.

I won't hurt myself
I'll just sit here
holding the remote
that doesn't work
on this reel.

And maybe
someone will sit beside me
not ask for a review
not say
hang in there
just let me
feel tired
without making me
apologize
for it—
and offer me
a purple tulip.

I do not ask
for the parts no longer in reach
I do not need
what the world once stole—
only to feel your pain.

You are not damaged
because someone took
what was never theirs to touch—

You are important
in ways that matter most—
the way you breathe
the way you stay
the way your kindness
stands out.

Your worth
does not begin
or end with what
you suffered—
It lives
in voice
in resilience
in resolve.

And I love you—
not for what you give
but for who you are—
Even the parts you've buried
even the ones you don't believe
are yours anymore—
I love them
with space for them
without asking them to return—
you are enough
just as you are—
unforgettable.

Fawn reaching
for Freeze
not to Fight—
but to take Flight
and go—
where the past
and pain
can't follow.