Chaos with Cait

Wanting you felt like holding a storm inside my chest.

He loves me best when it costs him nothing. Late nights. Loose promises. Affection on clearance. He calls this chemistry. I call it convenience. This type of love is a hunger that shows up full and leaves me empty. He wants my body without the responsibility of my heart. He dares ask for my softness without offering any stewardship. He thinks that he gets to experience my magic, without putting in the effort of learning its language. Modern men love in fragments. Half texts.

The storm didn’t leave me clean, the storm left me open. But joy still found its way in anyways.

I invite my heart to open again, to lay its old fears down like tired shoes at the door. What was, does not get to decide what is becoming. I step forward, curious and hopeful. Because, If love has taught me anything, it is that it always finds a way to win.

There is a place where sickness cannot follow. It lives just past the horizon, where the air is soft, the sun is bright and the sky remembers your name. Here, the rivers run with laughter, and the trees grow tall from every dream you thought you’d lost. And in this peaceful place, when you walk, the ground glows gently beneath your feet. A quiet applause for every time you stayed. There are no hospitals here, no scans, no waiting rooms full of whispers. Only wind, light, and

Some nights the moon feels closer than life’s answers.

Love is true even when people are not. Love waits beyond the noise for those who keep believing. Do you believe me?

The plan unraveled And what’s left, is the quiet thrill of beginning again. So, I return back to start eager to begin again.

If the cards had fallen differently, I might have been soft. Perhaps I would have been a young lady who bloomed without the fire, a girl who laughed more than she cried. If the cards had fallen differently, maybe I would trust the morning to keep its promises. Maybe my mother would have stayed sober long enough to teach me how to love gently. Maybe my father would have shown up and stayed long enough for me to believe I was worth staying for. Maybe my body would not have betr

Love arrived the moment I stopped reaching, and finally started getting comfortable receiving. Only then was I able to anchor.

The world moves on, but I stay still like a ghost afraid of being seen. Can you see me? Can I even see me?

I smile so no one asks, I crack jokes and try to make people laugh but my eyes still ache from holding back the flood.

Love is the light that answers back, when fear finally stops speaking. A quiet glow across the soul that waits beneath the noise of doubt.

I remember the moment, when I first saw you. The world stood still on its axis, and the air began moving in slow motion. Mesmerized I was by your souls beauty.

I locked the door and called it healing I named the silence safe. But in the stillness, I hear whispers of what I left behind. And I wonder Did I trade the warmth of risk for the cold comfort of loneliness?

She sees him standing across the room shoulders broad, carrying more than just muscle. The world says men don’t break, but she see’s the hairline cracks in his laughter, the pauses between his words. He is careful with his heart, like it’s a fragile heirloom no one taught him how to hold. He worries about saying too much, or not enough about being too forward, or too invisible. And she knows aside from all of the myths told about men, that he is just a human, searching for a

They called it necessary. Life-saving, they said I was lucky. I was reminded of how I should be grateful for the chance to live. But the doctors didn’t tell me what else would die in the operating room. They failed to mention, how they’d take the illness and with it, my womb, my chance, my womanhood as I knew it. They didn’t warn me about the silence that follows this type of procedure. The kind of silence that settles in your bones when your body is no longer home just afte

I am both a doorway and distance, longing and retreat, I am a heartbeat unsure of its next step.

I have learned that love is not a rescue, only a meeting place for two whole hearts.

My bones feel borrowed, as if someone else signed the lease on my skin.