Love story (60)

She never knew

that every smile she gave me

became a wound I willingly carried.

It was never her smile I loved

it was the universe hidden behind her eyes,

the stories she never told,

the sorrow she never showed,

the light that survived despite the darkness

I wanted to be part of it.

But my heart was a graveyard

of unfinished goodbyes.

Someone before her

had taught me that love could leave,

So I admired her

from

a

distance,

like a sailor staring at a lighthouse

he was too afraid

to sail toward.

My soul wrote her a thousand confessions,

but my lips remained faithful to silence.

Because the cruelest thing about a broken heart

is not that it cannot love again

it is that it loves deeply,

yet trembles at the thought

of being left behind once more.

And so she never knew

that in another life,

without the ruins of yesterday,

I would have told her

that she was the reason

my heart remembered

how

to

beat.