Together the Weight Wouldn’t be Heavy at All

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.