Bʀᴏᴋᴇɴ Wɪᴛʜᴏᴜᴛ Yᴏᴜ

In the quiet corners of my heart, I kept a secret garden-a fragile bloom of love that I tended with care. It was for someone who never truly belonged there. His touch was like frost on petals, beautiful yet cold. His words, sweet as honey, dripped with deception. I loved him with a fervour that blinded me to the truth sometimes love is a cruel mirage.

But as the seasons changed, so did my perception, revealing the fault lines of our mismatched souls. He was the wrong puzzle piece, forcing himself into spaces where he didn't fit. And I, foolishly, tried to mould myself to his edges.

The pain of loving the wrong person is a silent ache-an ache that gnaws at your spirit, eroding the very essence of who you are. It's the realisation that you've been watering a barren tree, hoping for blossoms that will never come. Yet, I clung to him, desperate for validation, afraid of the void that would follow if I let go.

But life has a way of surprising us. In the quiet aftermath of heartbreak, when tears blurred my vision, I stumbled upon a different kind of love. It wasn't loud or tempestuous; it was a gentle whisper-a warm breeze that carried away the debris of shattered dreams. 𝓓𝓮𝓿 appeared like a sunrise after a storm, illuminating the corners of my wounded heart.

He was the right puzzle piece missing half of my soul. His laughter was a melody that resonated with mine, and his touch ignited constellations within me. We built a love that didn't need mending, for it was whole from the start. In his arms, I found solace, and in his eyes, I glimpsed eternity.

The pain of loving the wrong person prepared me for the miracle of finding the right one. It taught me that scars can heal, and broken hearts can bloom anew.

Now, as I stand on the threshold of forever, hand in hand with the one who fits seamlessly into my existence, I honour the past wrong turns, the tears, and the silent battles. For they led me to this love that feels like coming home.