I have walked with silence in my chest, Where love once beat too loud, too wild Now careful, quiet, still. Not because I ceased to feel, But because feeling left me raw And rawness is not safe In a world that flinches at open hearts. They called it foolish, To love without return, To pour myself like rain Onto ground that never blooms. But I am not the soil. I am the storm And the soft moss that follows. I know Mine may be a love that echoes And finds no voice returning. A hand reaching To touch only wind. Forgotten, unwanted But even still, I reach. For what is the point Of a heart unspent? What is a world Where I would cage the river, Damn the flood Just to stay dry? No. Let me be the fool. Let me be a martyr of love. Let me be the ember That refuses to go cold. Let me ache and ache again It means I am not stone. So I hold myself lovingly To kindle my own flame. I would rather burn In the temple of longing Than freeze in the safety Of a life unloved. Even if no one ever meets me there, Even if I am The only one who stays. Because love Even if one-sided Keeps me Human. Keeps me Soft. Keeps me Alive.
