Between Bruises and Blooms

There are storms I’ve survived
that never made a sound,
battles no one witnessed
except the heart beneath my ribs.

Then there was you.

Not with fireworks,
or promises too big to hold,
but with quiet hands,
steady eyes,
and a kindness that made me wonder
if peace could really know my name.

You found me carrying pieces
I was certain could never fit together again.
You never asked me to hide the cracks.
You simply traced them
as though they were constellations
instead of scars.

I love you
not because you rescued me,
but because you reminded me
I was never beyond saving.

When the world grows loud,
I still search for your voice.
When life becomes heavy,
I still picture your arms.
And somehow,
even from a distance,
you feel like home.
So if you ever wonder
what you are to me—

You are the calm after every storm,
the breath between heartbeats,
the quiet hope I never thought I’d hold again.

And if loving you
means risking another broken heart,

then I would choose you,

every single time.