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A Lifetime Spent Bleeding Quietly
<p>Love does not arrive gently.</p><p>It takes.</p><p>It learns the shape of my chest</p><p>and leaves its teeth there.</p><p><br/></p><p>This heart is not broken—</p><p>it is worn thin.</p><p>Stretched past meaning,</p><p>still expected to beat.</p><p><br/></p><p>I have been wanted</p><p>and it meant nothing.</p><p>I have been needed</p><p>and it emptied me.</p><p><br/></p><p>I reach for love that hesitates,</p><p>because hesitation feels honest.</p><p>Anything certain</p><p>feels like a lie waiting to rot.</p><p><br/></p><p>Every time I love,</p><p>something small dies.</p><p>Not enough to mourn,</p><p>just enough to notice</p><p>I am disappearing.</p><p><br/></p><p>I do not scream.</p><p>I do not collapse.</p><p>I bleed in places</p><p>no one thinks to look.</p><p><br/></p><p>This is not heartbreak.</p><p>This is conditioning.</p><p>Pain taught me how to stay.</p><p><br/></p><p>I give until my hands feel useless,</p><p>until my pulse belongs to someone else,</p><p>until even my suffering</p><p>feels expected.</p><p><br/></p><p>Still, I want it.</p><p>The ache.</p><p>The slow undoing.</p><p>Because devastation</p><p>is the only proof</p><p>I was ever chosen.</p><p><br/></p><p>Love that stays</p><p>demands I live.</p><p>Love that leaves</p><p>lets me vanish quietly.</p><p><br/></p><p>So I keep offering this heart—</p><p>not because it survives,</p><p>but because it has learned</p><p>that a lifetime spent bleeding</p><p>is better</p><p>than being untouched.</p>
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David Lilly-West
Port Harcourt, Nigeria
Port Harcourt, Nigeria
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