You Are Not Too Much For Love

The sun has gone down, and now the house is quiet enough for the replay to start. You are scrolling back through six months of text messages, hunting for the exact sentence where you became too much.

The moment you tipped the scale. The place where you asked for too much air.

But the gathering dark is a liar about your history. It shows you the receipts without the context.

It shows you the words without the heart that sent them. There was a father who saw his son coming home from a long way off.

He did not check the boy's ledger first. He did not audit the apologies.

He ran. Before the speech, before the shame could finish its script — he ran.

The light does not measure your worth by your restraint. It does not love you less because you needed something.

You are not too much for the love that made the stars. You are simply human, reaching out in the dark.

The night is not a courtroom. It is just a room where you can finally stop running.