When I Open The Door Again

I won’t pretend like I’m unbroken.

I come with the sound of leaving still ringing in my chest,

with hands that once held all the wrong things too tightly.

But I am here,

softened, not shattered.

Wiser, not closed.

I know now that love is not rescue.

Love is not fixing or filling,

but a mirror that doesn't flinch.

So if I reach for you, know it is not out of need;

but choice.

when I reach for you know that I am reaching out

from fire survived and bridges I built back to myself.

I am ready to try again,

not with blind hope, but with open eyes, open hands, and a heart that still dares to bloom beneath the bruise.