I buried my hope in silence, locked trust behind my ribs
Love was a language I’d unlearned—too many counterfeit scripts
I wore my numbness like armor, stitched from years of ache
Built walls so high, even I forgot what they were meant to break

Then you came—not to fix me, not to pry
But with eyes that didn’t flinch when I forgot how to cry
You didn’t ask for softness, didn’t beg for light
You stood in my shadows and called me whole by right

You saw the tremble beneath my steel, the fire behind my fear
Spoke truth into my bruises, stayed even when I disappeared
You traced the map of my scars like they were sacred ground
And somehow, in your stillness, I felt safe to be found

I was not easy—I was storm and silence, rage and retreat
But you met me in the wreckage, never once tried to compete
You didn’t love the mask, or the myth I’d made to survive
You loved the woman beneath it all—the one I thought had died

Now these walls are crumbling, not from force but grace
And I’m learning to let you see every unguarded place
You didn’t rescue me—you reminded me I could rise
And that love, real love, doesn’t blink when it meets my eyes