Still, I Believe

We come with histories,

with fingerprints of lives once promised,

rings removed but not forgotten,

echoes of words that did not hold.

We know what it is to build carefully,

to believe honestly,

to watch something sacred loosen

and fall through our hands.

There was hurt.

There was rejection.

There were nights that asked too much of the heart.

Love did not fail because it was weak.

but because it was real.

And still,

I am here.

Not closed.

Not hardened.

Not pretending the past did not matter.

I carry the scars with respect,

not as warnings,

but as proof that I loved fully

and survived the ending.

I do not demand certainty.

I do not insist on promises.

I only remain open.

Open to laughter arriving unexpectedly.

Open to warmth that feels earned, not forced.

Open to a love that grows slower,

weiser,

kinder than before.

I believe in love.

Not the flawless kind,

but the brave kind.

The kind that chooses again.

The kind that says

despite everything,

I am willing to hope.