When I met him

I was a room with the lights turned low,

Curtains drawn so no one could see

The cracks in the walls, the quiet ache,

The fear that I was too broken to be free.

I learned to build myself in layers,

Brick by brick, “don’t come too near,”

Smiling like I wasn’t trembling,

Hiding every doubt and fear.

Then he came like open sky,

Like wind that doesn’t ask permission,

Carrying warmth in careless laughter,

Turning silence into rhythm.

He didn’t fix me.

He didn’t save me.

He just stood there and stayed.

And somehow, in the staying,

In the way he saw the pieces and didn’t leave,

I learned that hearts don’t need to be perfect

To be whole.