Kindness, Undone

I used to think love was a test

I had to pass with perfect posture

smiling, agreeable,

swallowing the sharp parts of myself

like they were unsafe objects.

﹁﹂

Kindness, for me, was a knot:

tight, tidy,

pulled hard so nothing leaked out.

﹁﹂

I learned to say “no problem”

when it was, in fact,

a problem.

I learned to laugh

Before anyone could call me difficult.

﹁﹂

Then you handed me a blanket

without making a speech about it.

Just here.

And my body didn’t know what to do

with something gentle

that didn’t want repayment.

﹁﹂

I felt fear first.

Not romance, not fireworks

fear, pure and practical,

like a locked door hearing footsteps.

﹁﹂

But I stayed.

I let the silence sit between us

without stuffing it with jokes.

I let my shoulders drop

one millimeter at a time.

﹁﹂

Somewhere in that slow untying,

I realized kindness can be soft

and still be real,

And love doesn’t have to hurt

to prove it’s there.

﹁﹂

I’m still learning, though

My hands reach for old knots

When the room gets too quiet.