Forgive me

Forgive me if I flinch a little when you promise me forever. I’ve held futures in my hands before just to watch them disappear.

Forgive me if I went quiet the first time you said you loved me. I loved you too, more than I could explain, but fear has a way of making even the softest hearts retreat.

Forgive me if I overthink missed calls or distant tones. I’ve heard “I love you” whispered from lips that belonged somewhere else while there were with me.

Forgive me if I love too loudly sometimes. If I overdo the little things, if I try too hard to prove myself worthy of staying for. I spent too long feeling replaceable and I never want to lose you.

Forgive me if I hold you tighter than I should in the middle of the night. Somewhere deep inside me lives the fear that every goodbye could become permanent.

Forgive me if tears fall when I try to tell you how deeply I love you. Sometimes I still cannot understand how someone like you could look at me so gently.

Forgive me for always needing a backup plan, for trying to protect myself before life gets the chance to pull the rug out from under me again. I learned the hard way what happens when you love without something to catch you when you fall.

Forgive me if I sometimes pull away from intimacy even when all I want is you. I’ve carried shame about my body from hands and words that were never kind, even though you look at me like I am something beautiful.

But most of all, forgive me for all the in-between parts of me. The healing parts. The scared parts. The parts still learning that love does not always leave.

You and I have both survived things that tried to harden us. We have both been broken down and forced to rebuild ourselves piece by piece. But I promise you this — I will spend every day loving you softer, trusting you deeper, and trying harder if it means I get to keep holding your hand through this life.

So be patient with my heart, baby. It has survived a war before it ever found you.