I carry it.
The ache.
The guilt.
The days I fell short
and the nights I went quiet
when someone needed me to be loud with love.
You carry it too.
In silence.
In strength that sometimes shakes.
In the pieces you still protect
even when no one’s asking you to.
We’ve both held it—
the loss,
the love,
the future that vanished
without a chance to breathe.
And maybe we were never meant
to carry it like this—
separate,
straining,
pretending the weight made us stronger
just because we refused to set it down.
But what if it never had to be this heavy?
What if healing
wasn’t meant to be lonely?
What if forgiveness
was always supposed to be shared?
Because together,
the weight wouldn’t be heavy at all.
It would still hurt,
yes—
but it wouldn’t break us.
It wouldn’t own us.
It would just be part of the story—
a part we chose to carry
with open hands,
and quiet grace,
and the kind of strength that doesn’t need to prove anything.
We were never too broken.
Just too alone
when it mattered most.