The Ones I Couldn’t Save
I wore my care like armor
forged in the fires of other people’s hurt
a quiet knight for battles that were never mine.
They called it love.
I called it purpose.
But I forgot the sound of my own breath
beneath all the rescue.
I walked into storms
to shield others from the rain
never noticing
my own skin, soaked and shivering.
There were days
I mistook guilt for guidance
and silence for strength.
I told myself
if I could just hold one more heart together,
maybe mine would follow.
But now
I am learning to unclench my fists
to put the sword down
to speak to myself with the softness
I reserved only for the broken.
I am not their salvation.
I am not their undoing.
I am not the pain I could not absorb
or the silence I broke to make others whole.
I am worthy
even when I choose myself.
This one is for the past versions of me. The silent savior, the wandering heart, the man finally coming home to himself.













