When He Puts His Ring Off
I never taught that my feelings mattered
What I want was invisible
What I need was too loud
What I felt was too much
So I learned to whisper my hunger
I am nothing but a garden begging for rain
While he was the sky already tired of storms
So I wandered,
Chasing warmth in borrowed sun
Just to remember
How it felt to be wanted
To recall the weight of being chosen
But he saw the burns on my skin
Never the bloom I tried to give
And he turned colder than December wind
Leaving behind a space miles of silence
And me, like a home he no longer calls his
Now the hand is bare,
But the mark remains
Echoing the ghost of a circle once meant forever
He slowly closes the door
That has been half open
For too long
So here I am tracing the shape of what we were
And still learning
That wanting love
Is not the same as being loved





