Maybe the hardest part isn’t that you broke my heart it’s that I watched you hold it with shaking hands, and I still whispered, “Be careful.” You weren’t cruel just careless, and carelessness is its own kind of cruelty.I told myself you’d learn. That love would soften you, teach you the tenderness you never had to earn. But some people don’t change they just get better at pretending they might. And now I’m here, stitching the same wound you opened twic wondering if my love is a slow kind of self-harm, if maybe loving you this deeply is like pressing a bruise just to prove it still hurts. I don’t think I’ll ever stop loving you but I can’t promise I’ll ever trust you again. Because love, for me, has always been sacred and for you, it’s always been heavy. Too heavy to hold, too light to keep. So I’ll carry what’s left of me in both hands this time carefully, deliberately, the way you never could.