You held my shaking hands
when my thoughts became too loud,
when fear sat beside me at night
and convinced me I was losing you.
But love stayed.
Soft. Patient. Real.
You came back to me
not like a stranger,
not with cold silence,
but with the same heart
that keeps finding mine.
Now the air feels lighter.
Food tastes warm again.
Music sounds beautiful again.
And my smile returns quietly
every time I remember—
you still choose me.
Maybe love is not perfect words
or perfect days.
Maybe it is this:
two tired hearts
holding on through storms
until the morning finally feels safe
S