The Love I Never Got

I used to write letters to a love unknown,

To someone who’d see me, who’d make me feel home.

I waited in silence, with hope in my chest,

Thinking one day, I’d finally rest.

But love never came in the way I dreamed,

Not with flowers or soft moonbeams.

It came through tears I cried alone,

Through lessons carved into every bone.

I searched in faces, in words, in touch,

But no one stayed, not even much.

They loved the idea, not the mess I hid,

Not the pieces of me even I forbid.

Then slowly, without noise or name,

Strength walked in — not seeking fame.

It held me on nights I shook in bed,

It whispered, “You’re enough,” inside my head.

I stopped begging hearts to make me whole,

And started feeding my own soul.

The love I never got from them,

I gave myself, again and again.

So here I stand — softer, yet steel,

Loving myself the way they never will.

Maybe I wasn’t unlovable — just rare,

And now I bloom in self-made care.