Love That Feels Right | Poetry

The land inside me

was fading for a long time,

slipping into deep, quiet seas

where even hope

felt too tired to swim.

Then he came —

not like the heroes in stories,

not with crowns or shining things —

just a gentle love

that didn’t need me to pretend I was strong.

He noticed the cracks.

The places that still hurt

even when I said I was fine.

He took my shaking hands and said softly,

“Don’t look down… I’ve got you.”

When I was little, I believed

in princesses and princes,

queens beside their kings —

big, glowing love stories

that felt far away from real life.

But this…

this felt different.

This was safe love.

Quiet. Steady.

The kind that doesn’t try to impress the world,

only to calm the storm in your chest.

He didn’t pull me out of a tower.

He just stayed

while I figured out how to stand again.

He stood near my shadows

until they slowly stopped scaring me.

Somewhere along the way,

I found myself learning to trust again,

in small, careful steps,

through the slow work

of emotional healing.

Nothing changed all at once.

But the world around me felt… lighter.

Like early morning

after a night that wouldn’t end.

The old demons didn’t vanish,

but they stopped shouting.

Fear wasn’t in charge of everything anymore.

And in the quiet,

I felt something growing —

a healing love,

the kind of love that heals

without making a scene about it.

It wasn’t a fairy tale.

Honestly, it was better than that.

It was a healthy relationship

built from ordinary days,

from patience, from showing up,

from hands that didn’t let go

when mine trembled.

He didn’t give me a kingdom.

He gave me space to breathe.

He didn’t promise forever.

He promised now.

And slowly — so slowly I almost missed it —

my heart moved

from darkness to light.

Not because I was rescued,

but because I was understood,

held,

and loved in a way

that grew into another healing love inside me —

one that helped me come back to myself.