The Warmth Before The Ache

I thank you still,  

for once, you were shelter,  

a haven carved from trust  

and quiet nights,  

a warmth that held me  

when the world felt cold.

You were my safe place,  

before walls turned to shadows,  

before laughter hid in corners,  

and love wore a mask of sorrow.

In that space, I grew,  

I leaned into the light  

that softened in your presence,  

felt the gentle weight of belonging—  

a weight that turned heavy,  

etched with cracks I couldn’t ignore.

Yet even as I walk away,  

leaving pieces of us behind,  

I carry the memory of safety,  

the warmth before the ache.  

And though I’ve learned to live  

with the bruises we became,  

I thank you still—  

for once, we were sanctuary,  

a home I’ll remember,  

even as I heal.