Love Shouldn’t Hurt Like This

Love Shouldn’t Hurt Like This

I traced the scars you left on me,

wondering how love could hurt like glass,

how kisses could leave bruises unseen,

while tenderness could sting the heart.

You spoke in quiet storms,

your words sharp, a secret knife,

I begged for warmth, for understanding,

but love shouldn’t hurt like this.

Even when I tried to bend,

to fold my soul around your shadow,

I felt the weight of every tear,

the echo of a heart breaking silently.

I carried your anger like rain,

soaked into the corners of my being,

and still, I reached for the fleeting light,

in brief moments when love seemed gentle.

We danced on glass floors,

every step precarious, trembling,

the memory of your touch

a contradiction between desire and fear.

I whispered apologies I did not owe,

held my own pain in secret chambers,

tried to make the broken pieces fit,

every embrace wanted to hurt me more.

Now I understand the truth,

love is not meant to bleed,

it is meant to lift, to cradle,

to hold and never crush.

And though I remember every cut,

every sharp glance and quiet despair,

I am learning to let the heart breathe,

to demand a love that does not hurt.