Trigger p.2

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by lettersandhotcocoa

by lettersandhotcocoa

I remember when
I thought of you as a trigger—
not in the way of warning, but
like a gun you took in hand,
firing straight into my heart.

And suddenly,
I fell in love,
and it grew stronger,
stronger,
stronger,
stronger.

One, two, three, four years,
lost in you, and only you,
lost my sense of self
because life, I thought, would mean nothing
if it wasn't with you.

I thought our stars were perfectly aligned,
two rams bound together by fate,
or whatever name I'd give it then.

And now...
everything I see of you
has become a trigger.
It doesn’t hurt anymore,
but it stirs me, leaves me uneasy—
as if facing someone who once struck me down,
someone who held me tight till I couldn’t breathe,
someone who gave mixed signals,
until I fell into depression’s hold.

But no—
you did none of that.
I was the one who gave you that power.
I built it all from my own expectations.
You did nothing.
How could you know,

that the girl with words tucked in your shelves
would become a woman the moment she saw you?
How could you know,
this girl was sketching plans—
the kind you made,
but never with her?

Now, the girl is gone,
and the woman is healing.
She’s accepted her fate,
but you remain, just as you were:
a trigger.

But now,
she’ll dodge,
she’ll keep her promise.