Quiet Hour

I wished you were mine —hand in hand, side by side.
But you chose someone else, and I stopped asking why.
I would’ve given you everything,
but you never even opened the door.
You walked away without a word,
and I learned to stand on my own.
Now you’re the one with problems,
and I pause before stepping in.
You weren’t there when I needed you—
not once, not ever.
Still, it’s alright.
You don’t have to say a thing.
I’ll help you—because that’s who I am,
not because you deserve it.
I’ve carried you through storms
you never stayed to face with me.
But I’m done pretending that doesn’t matter.
I’m done waiting for you to show up.
My heart aches, yes—
but it also wakes up.
I loved you from the start,
and you broke that without looking back.
You returned like nothing happened,
and for a moment, the pieces tried to fit again.
But I see it clearly now:
love shouldn’t rebuild itself
just because you decided to come back.
I may always care for you—
but I won’t lose myself for you.
I won’t be the only one loving,
carrying, giving, waiting.
I choose me now.
And that’s the part you never expected.