“A Little Longer Than I Thought”

I love you like breath—

steady, instinctive,

sometimes all at once

when I forget how to pace myself.

I came in fast,

heart first,

hoping you’d feel safe in the fire 

I tried so hard to keep on.

But I see now

how flames can scare someone

who’s been burned by them before.

I see how too much

can still mean it’s real—

but still be too much.

It wasn’t fake.

Just flawed.

Raw in the way healing is raw—

all tenderness and timing,

all hope and heavy hands.

I gave what I had,

even when what I had

was tangled in anxiety,

in silence I couldn’t read,

in questions I didn’t mean

to make feel like demands.

I tried to love loud enough

to drown the doubts,

but sometimes

that only made them louder.

I never meant to make you flinch

at something meant to hold you.

Never meant for my wanting

to feel like pressure.

Never meant for my fear

to sound like your fault.

I just didn’t know

I still needed saving

from myself.

So I’ve turned inward,

not away—

learning to hold my own hand

before reaching for yours again.

Finding softness in solitude,

and peace

where panic used to be.

I love you still.

That hasn’t changed.

But now I know—

real love isn’t about urgency.

It’s about presence.

Patience.

And sometimes,

stepping back

to become someone whole

on her own.

If the timing ever fits again,

I’ll be ready—

not rushing,

not reaching,

just steady.