The Things We Do For Love

The Things We Do For Love

We bend without noticing the first time,

just a small shift, a softened edge,

a silence where a truth once lived,

and it feels harmless, almost kind.

We tell ourselves this is what love asks,

a quiet giving, a gentle yield,

but slowly we begin to blur,

until we cannot see our shape.

We wait for messages that never come,

hold phones like they might speak for us,

reading into every pause,

as if absence still means care.

We forgive before we hear sorry,

we excuse what should not stand,

we carry weight that is not ours,

and call it loyalty, call it strength.

There are nights we lie awake and think,

is this the way it should all feel,

this constant edge, this careful step,

this fear of saying what is real.

Still we stay, we always stay,

because the leaving feels like loss,

because we remember what it was,

not what it has become.

Love makes us brave in foolish ways,

makes us blind where we should see,

makes us build on broken ground,

and swear it will not fall again.

But somewhere deep a voice remains,

quiet, steady, hard to hear,

reminding us what we once were,

before we traded truth for this.

And one day, not loud, not wild,

just a calm we did not expect,

we gather every scattered piece,

and choose ourselves instead.

Because love should never cost your soul,

should never ask you not to be,

and all the things we do for love,

should never unmake me.

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