In the quiet of my own

I’ve loved with hands still trembling, Offered pieces I hadn’t named. Called it love, though I was breaking, Hoping someone would stay. Desperately searching for who’s with me, Someone afraid of losing me. Someone who longs to hear my voice— But I guess that kind of soul is rare. So I learned to hold my own hand, To whisper soft truths in the dark. Not every heart that wanders close Is meant to carry your scars. I learned to search for my peace— At the end of the day, it’s just you. You must find your joy, Heal in your own quiet way. No one can do that for you. And maybe, one day, Someone will meet me where I’ve healed.