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Loss & love ending in self-preservation and the resolve to remain open to love again. |
| Losing in Love I didn’t lose you all at once— it came in quiet surrenders, in words you didn’t mean to keep, in promises that learned how to bruise softly. I gave you my faith with open hands, like something meant to be held, not weighed, and you carried it lightly— as if love were a thing that never falls. I mistook patience for devotion, silence for depth, your almosts for forever— and I stayed where I was already fading. Losing in love isn’t just the goodbye. It’s the way you keep showing up after the door has closed, hoping your heart will be chosen this time. I lost when I loved you more than you were willing to risk, when my truth bent itself smaller just to fit beside yours. But even in the wreckage, I didn’t lose myself entirely— I learned what it costs to love honestly, and what it means to walk away still whole. I lost you. But I kept my heart— bruised, wiser, and still brave enough to love again. |