Running Into a Closed Door

I did not want to be strong. I wanted to be close to you. Not in words, but in the quiet ways — in staying, in caring, in seeing you smile, in not letting go when things grew heavy. I bent myself into softer shapes, longing to fit where love kept its distance. I bended patiently, and hoped in hunger for a heart that wouldn''t open fully when I needed it most. You were warmth at night, and cold in the mornings. I was loving someone who was present in fragments. Can chemistry turn into commitment? Once, our house was joyful — with kisses in the kitchen, Emma calling your name again and again. Lying on your chest always feels so much like love. But now I stand in the silence, wondering where that life went.