A version of me that loves you but is scared of loving you..
I miss you so much that it hurts,
not the soft kind of hurt that fades with time,
but the kind that settles deep
and rearranges parts of me I thought were already healed.
Your love is shaping a version of myself
I don't recognize,
a version I'm afraid of becoming.
A version that fears losing you,
that flinches at silence,
that feels too much,
too deeply, too openly, too honestly.
A version whose heart feels so loved
that it trembles under the weight of it.
And that's the part that scares me most.
Because love, when it feels this real,
this warm, this consuming,
becomes dangerous to someone like me,
someone who has learned pain by memory,
who remembers how opening up once
ended in bruises no one else could see.
Your love makes me want to open doors
I nailed shut for survival.
It makes me want to trust again.
And that terrifies me.
I feel the urge to run,
not because I'm weak,
but because my heart remembers
what happens when it gives too much.
Yet I don't know where to run to,
and I'm not a coward.
I've never been.
So running is not an option,
even when fear claws at my chest.
Still, I'm scared.
Scared that if I let you see all of me,
you'll do what others did,
leave me standing in the ruins of my own honesty,
broken and bruised by love
that promised safety but didn't stay.
Scared that this tenderness I feel
will be used against me by fate,
by timing, and by a past that refuses to stay buried.
So here I am,
missing you,
loving you,
standing at the edge of my own heart
wanting to step forward,
wanting to trust,
wanting to believe
that this time could be different…
and at the same time being terrified
that it won't be different.
Too scared to Hold On, Too loved to Let Go