LOVE PICKS HIS PREY

‎Love Picks His Prey ‎He came softly—like sunlight through cracks, ‎a warmth I mistook for forever. ‎His words were lullabies dipped in poison, ‎his touch, a promise that never stayed. ‎ ‎I was the quiet one in the garden, ‎heart open, waiting for rain— ‎but love is no rain, ‎he is a hunter with gentle eyes. ‎ ‎He chose me, ‎not to heal, ‎but to see how long ‎a soul can bleed ‎and still whisper, “I’m fine.”