When Love Learns to Breathe
It can die or grow
When Love Learns to Breathe
Love is not a fire, it is a quiet air.
It fills the spaces between our ribs.
It hums beneath our sleep,
and wakes before we do.
I once thought love was loud,
a storm that shouted its name.
But now I know it is patience,
a hand that stays when silence falls.
We grew through storms and rainy days.
We broke, we mended, we broke again.
Still love breathed, slow and certain,
as if it had nowhere else to go.
It does not leave, not truly.
It changes shape and lingers.
It waits to be recognised,
like sunlight through the curtain.
About the Creator
♿ V+ Marie381Uk
Poetry has lived in me since childhood.
Ink spills the feelings words fear to say.
My poems heal, some haunt, all are pieces of me.
Stay and read please. Like&follow me. If my poetry touches your ♥️ maybe leave a small tip
#Marie381UkWrites
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