Between Bruises and Blooms

I’ve loved men
who knew exactly what to say
to make me doubt myself.

Men who mistook control
for love.

Men who collected apologies
like trophies.

Men who wanted my body
before they ever learned
my favorite song.

And then there was you.

You sent me pictures
of pelicans in England,
dogs asleep beside you,
cats riding shotgun,
sunlight on the water.

Your life always looked…
gentle.

I don’t know if it always was.

I only know
that’s how it felt from where I stood.

When I couldn’t sleep,
you stayed on Skype
until I did.

You never asked me
to become someone easier to love.

You just…
stayed.

Sometimes I wonder
if that’s why I keep finding my way
back to your name.

Not because I believe
we were destined.

But because my heart
still recognizes
what safety sounded like.

It sounded like your voice
through cheap speakers.

It sounded like laughing
until two in the morning.

It sounded like someone
who looked at me
like I was a person
instead of a problem to solve.

Life happened.

Other people happened.

Years happened.

And somehow,
every once in a while,

so do you.

Maybe that’s all
we’re ever meant to be.

Two people
who keep reminding each other
that somewhere,
underneath all the years
and wrong turns,

there was once
a boy
who made a frightened girl
feel safe enough
to fall asleep.