When Love Learns to Breathe
Love is not a fire, it is a quiet air.
It fills the spaces between our ribs.
It hums beneath our sleep,
and wakes before we do.
I once thought love was loud,
a storm that shouted its name.
But now I know it is patience,
a hand that stays when silence falls.
We grew through storms and rainy days.
We broke, we mended, we broke again.
Still love breathed, slow and certain,
as if it had nowhere else to go.
It does not leave, not truly.
It changes shape and lingers.
It waits to be recognised,
like sunlight through the curtain.
About the Creator
Marie381Uk
I've been writing poetry since the age of fourteen. With pen in hand, I wander through realms unseen. The pen holds power; ink reveals hidden thoughts. A poet may speak truth or weave a tale. You decide. Let pen and ink capture your mind❤️
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