The Edge Of Always

I want to stay.

God, I really want to stay,

but something in me trembles at the thought of forever,

like it’s a door that might close too loudly behind me.

Not because I don't want to love,

but because I have loved before and watched the floor give out beneath the weight of my footsteps.

You ask me if I can promise,

and I want to say yes.

But my yes is a quiet animal that still flinches when hands reach out too fast,

my yes has learned to tiptoe.

My yes wants to believe in soft landings, in safe harbors, in being chosen again and again, even when the shine fades, even when the days aren’t kind.

But I’ve seen love leave with no apology, no explanation, just the cold silence of a slammed heart.

Still,

there's a part of me that craves it.

Not the perfection, but the presence.

The choosing, the coming back, the fight to stay.

Commitment is a fire,

not a still one.

A blaze that asks you to walk in knowing it may consume the things you built to protect yourself.

And I,

I am learning that some fires don’t burn you down,

some warm you from within.

I may not be ready now,

but I’m not running.

Not this time.