You Do Not Have To Be Seamless

The sun is up now. The night you spent guarding the crack in your armor is over.

And maybe, when the light finally reached out to touch that broken place, you flinched. You pulled away.

Not because the hand was harsh, but because the touch proved the hiding was done. For years you managed the fracture alone, and suddenly, someone saw.

It feels like exposure. But look at the dawn.

The light does not shine to reveal your damage so it can judge it. It shines because the damage is already known, and the covering was never needed.

You are safe in the morning. The flinch was just the muscle memory of solitude leaving your body.

The hand is still there, not to pick at the wound, but to hold it steady while it heals. You do not have to be seamless to be loved.

You only have to be here, in the light, letting the warmth find the places you tried to keep cold.