Surviving Heartbreak

Loaded Gun

Love is strange—
committing to another soul
knowing they can leave
any moment,
despite all the memories,
the whispered promises,
the plans you etched into forever.

It feels like you belong together,
but there's no guarantee of that,
no cosmic force to hold them close.
It's a risk,
one that often ends with more ache
than warmth.

You let yourself unravel in their hands,
exposing the raw, tender parts of you,
handing them the weapon
and praying they don't pull the trigger.

And maybe they don't.
For a long time, they don't.
You sleep beside them,
breathe in their skin,
share your soul,
believing you've created something
unbreakable.

Morning kisses,
shared dreams,
laughter in the dark—
but then, one day,
all of that is not enough anymore.
They remember the gun you gave them,
and they fire.

It doesn't matter how many nights
you spent entangled,
how many times you said "I love you"
with the deepest sincerity you could muster.
It doesn't matter that you showed them
the most hidden parts of you,
the past, the present,
the future you painted with their name.

One day, it all falls apart,
and you're left wondering
why nothing was ever enough.
And yet, somehow,
we keep going.
We pick up our shattered pieces
and offer them to someone new.
We trust again,
love again—
as if we've forgotten the pain
and the weight of that loaded gun.

—MistakenGenius