…and when love comes again.

Love, I hope you listen this time.
I hope you hear the weight in my voice,
the silence where laughter used to be,
the emptiness where hope once stood tall.
You made a home in my heart,
then burned it down without warning,
left me sifting through the ashes,
searching for something worth saving.

I was kind to you, love.
Opened my doors, my arms, my soul.
Gave you a place to stay,
fed you with dreams and devotion.
But you took all I had,
left my hands trembling and cold,
my heart a cracked mirror,
reflecting a man I no longer know.

Once, I walked with the sun in my chest,
believed in forever and fate,
sang the songs of a hopeful heart,
thinking love was the sweetest of gifts.
Now, I tread with shadows at my heels,
carry the weight of lessons too bitter to swallow,
watch the world through wary eyes,
unsure if warmth is ever worth the burn.

So hear me now, love, and hear me well—
this is the last time I kneel before you.
The last time I play the fool,
the last time I let you leave me hollow.
If you ever return, you will not know me.
You will find no open arms,
no foolish boy with a heart too big,
no laughter waiting to welcome you home.

You will meet a stranger in my place,
a man carved from stone and silence,
a face you once kissed, now unreadable,
a soul you once danced with, now distant.
You will not know my voice,
for it will no longer call your name.
And when love comes again,
it will know that it is no longer welcome.