oneheart

Sometimes it isn't loneliness that keeps me awake, It is the quiet ache of wanting someone to stay, Someone whose hands could make the darkness less cold, Someone whose heart I could trust enough to hold. I tell myself I've learned to live without a name, Without a voice that could set my sleeping soul aflame, Without the fragile promise of a morning shared, Without believing that somebody truly cared. Yet somewhere underneath the armor that I wear, I still leave room for someone to find me there. I still imagine footsteps stopping at my door, A stranger becoming someone I could adore. And that is where the fear begins to breathe, Because wanting is the one thing I cannot leave. I know what happens when the walls come down, How love can turn a shelter to a burning town. How every tender word can become a blade, How promises can vanish like a ghostly shade. So I keep my heart beneath a careful disguise, And teach my hope to sleep with open eyes. I say I need nobody, and almost believe it, Then midnight comes, and I can no longer deceive it. Because solitude is easier than losing again, Easier than trusting the wrong kind of friend. Still, some impossible part of me remains, Waiting for warmth without inheriting chains. Waiting for someone I won't have to fear, Someone who stays when the ruins appear. I remember the sound of a heart breaking slowly, Not loud enough for strangers to know me. It was the silence after every goodbye, The unanswered questions I carried inside. I remember collecting the pieces alone, Turning broken promises into a home. There were nights when the ceiling knew my name, When tears felt heavier than any blame. I learned how to smile while carrying scars, How to look untouched beneath ordinary stars. I learned that some people arrive like rain, Only to leave you drowning in pain. They teach you to open, then teach you to close, And leave you unsure which wound hurts the most. So now when somebody reaches for my hand, A part of me wants to run, not understand. I wonder what they want, and when they will leave, I measure every reason I might believe. I listen for cracks beneath every vow, For the future disguised inside a now. Because I have seen forever turn into dust, And watched devotion collapse under distrust. I know how quickly a sanctuary can fall, How one goodbye can echo through it all. Yet somewhere beneath everything I defend, I still wish there were someone who could stay until the end. Someone who would not make love feel like war, Someone worth opening the locked and wounded door. Someone who would see the ruins and not flee, But sit beside them quietly with me. I don't need a savior, a hero, or a throne, I don't need someone to erase what I've known. I need a heart that does not run from the truth, A hand that remains when the world loses its youth. Someone who understands that trust takes time, That healing is rarely graceful or easy to climb. Someone who won't demand that my scars disappear, Just to make my brokenness easier to bear. I want a love that doesn't arrive like a storm, But learns the shape of my silence and form. A love that can sit through the uncomfortable night, Without turning every shadow into a fight. Someone who knows that staying is a choice, And means what they say beyond the sound of their voice. I want no perfect promises carved into stone, No beautiful lies that leave me alone. Give me something quiet, something real, Something that doesn't ask me not to feel. Let me be frightened without being ashamed, Let me be honest without being blamed. Let me take one step, then another, then breathe, Without wondering what I will have to leave. Because I am tired of rebuilding from fire, Tired of confusing survival with desire. Still, beneath all the caution I've learned to possess, There is a stubborn little pulse saying yes. Yes to the possibility, though trembling with doubt, Yes to a door I am terrified to walk out. Yes to believing that not every ending must scar, That perhaps some people arrive and simply are. And maybe the bravest thing I could ever do Is let someone gentle prove that fear isn't always true. But if I love again, I will not disappear, I will not abandon myself just to keep someone near. I will not call suffering proof that love is deep, Or mistake sleepless nights for promises to keep. I will not make excuses for a heart that hurts, Or wear forgiveness like a shirt that never fits. I have spent too long becoming smaller for love, Too long asking the stars for signs from above. This time, I want a love that meets me whole, Not one that slowly bargains pieces of my soul. I want laughter that survives an ordinary day, Not only passion that burns and fades away. I want someone who can witness my doubt, And never make me feel I should shut it out. Someone who understands the language of scars, Who doesn't promise heaven, but walks where we are. And if someday the trembling becomes too loud, I hope they won't shame me for stepping back now. I hope they will know that trust is a garden, Not a door that opens simply because someone has hardened. It needs patience, sunlight, and room to grow, It needs two people willing to move slowly, not know. And if the old ghosts return in the night, I want a hand beside mine, not another fight. Not someone to save me from everything I've been, But someone who reminds me I can begin again. Because love should not demand that I bleed to belong, Nor make me apologize for being afraid for so long. Maybe safety is not the absence of fear, But finding someone who stays when fear appears near. And maybe that is the kind of love I can finally choose: One that doesn't leave me with everything left to lose. So if I still long for someone, let it be known, It doesn't mean I cannot survive alone. It means some part of me still believes in a door, Still hopes there is something worth opening for. I am not ashamed that my heart still wants more, Even after it has slept on a broken floor. I am not foolish for craving a place to belong, For wanting a hand that will hold me when nights grow long. I am simply human, carrying what I survived, Still learning how to feel without fearing I'll die inside. And yes, I am frightened of loving again, Of building a home just to lose it in the rain. I'm frightened of waking beside an empty side, Of hearing another goodbye I cannot outrun or hide. I'm frightened I'll become the ruins once more, A name in the dust beside a shattered door. But fear does not mean the future is already written, Nor does every new heart carry the sins of the bitten. Maybe someone will come without asking me to forget, Without making me prove that I'm ready yet. Maybe they'll sit beside the pieces I couldn't mend, And never call my healing a reason to end. Maybe we'll build something neither of us has known, Not perfect, not painless, but finally our own. Brick by careful brick, with honesty for light, With patience in the morning and tenderness at night. And if the walls tremble, we will not pretend they're strong, We'll hold them together and admit when something's wrong. Because perhaps love is not finding someone who saves you from the fall, But finding someone who helps you rise without losing yourself at all. And perhaps the deepest courage isn't learning not to fear the ruins, But believing there may still be something beautiful worth building from them.