SummerRose/MidnightRose

And sometimes love is
not the way the movies told us it would be.
Not the fireworks,
not the slow dance in the rain,
not the happy ending that ties up neatly in ninety minutes.

Love is the silence after the door closes,
when you don’t know
if they’re coming back,
but you still leave the light on anyway.

It’s the way your voice breaks
when you say their name
and realize the echo answers you back.

It’s missing the little things,
the mug they always reached for
in the morning,
the hoodie you still keep
in the back of your closet,
the way their laugh used to fill the room,
the message thread you can’t bring yourself to delete.

Love is choosing to stay
when it’s easier to run,
holding on
even when your hands are shaking,
letting go
even when every bone in your body
is begging you to fight harder.

It’s not always soft.
Sometimes it’s jagged.
Sometimes it leaves you bleeding.
Sometimes it teaches you
that the most painful thing you’ll ever do
is wish them well without you in the picture.

And sometimes the person you lose
is the same person you find
when you finally look in the mirror.

Love is
learning to be your own rescue,
your own safe place,
your own light left on at night.

It’s standing in the ruins and realizing:
you are still here.
And that’s enough.
More than enough.

Love is the proof
that even in the breaking,
you were worth saving,
and you were the one who saved you.