We do not fall in love with the light.
We fall for the shadows
Where the pieces of us we've hidden away
Finally meet their reflection in another.
It's in the scars and the silence,
The darkness we both recognize.
Not the smile that greets the world,
But the ache that trembles beneath it.
You can love someone for all the right reasons,
But that love can still break apart,
Like porcelain that shatters under its own fragility.
Yet, when your darkness finds a home in theirs,
When your monsters curl up beside their own,
That is the love that owns you.
It slips under your skin,
Anchors itself deep in your bones,
And claims you, not gently,
But fiercely, like a storm.
In the coldest hours,
In the blackest night,
It is not the sunlight we crave,
But the flicker of a candle,
The smallest flame burning stubbornly against the dark.
This love, born in shadow,
Is not a light to chase away the night,
But a flame that dances within it,
Refusing to be extinguished.
