I used to think love was staying no matter what—
that safety meant endurance,
not peace.
But today, I learned that true safety
doesn’t scream at the storm—
it breathes in the middle of it,
and says “we will be okay.”
Safety looks like presence that doesn’t flinch
when the silence is heavy
and the air between us is sharp.
It looks like a man
who has my back when I’m not in the room,
who doesn’t speak about me differently
just because I’m not listening.
It looks like love
that doesn’t choose me out of guilt,
but chooses me
because I am still the softest place he’s ever known.
Safety isn’t loud.
It’s not always forever.
It’s the whisper that says:
“I see you.
And when I can’t help us—
I won’t hurt us either.”
“I will step away with dignity
before I ever destroy what was holy between us.”
Today I realized—
if it ends,
it doesn’t mean I failed.
It means I stayed soft,
even while learning how to be strong.
It means I protected my peace
instead of preserving a performance.
It means I was safe
even if he left—
because this time,
I never abandoned me.
-The Soft Witness