Love Waits for Your Flinch to Settle

Tonight, the house is quiet enough to hear your own nerves humming. You feel it when a hand you trust brushes your waist—a flinch before your mind can catch up, a cataloging of touch as threat before your heart knows it is safe.

The body remembers what the soul is trying to forget. It stands guard while you sleep.

But listen—there is a tenderness that does not startle you. There is a love that waits for your flinch to settle before it moves closer.

The light does not force its way past your defenses; it sits with you in the dark until your muscles remember how to unclench. You are not broken because you brace for impact.

You are healing because you are still here to feel the difference between the past and this quiet room. The hand on your waist is not the one that hurt you.

The love reaching for you now is the one that stayed.