She Loved Me More When I Was Broken
She loved me
when I shook,
when my voice cracked,
when my nights were sleepless
and I spilled like water
across her floor.
She called it love
but it was a quiet hunger—
me, shattered porcelain,
her, the one who swept.
She felt holy
when I was helpless.
Felt needed
when I dissolved.
But then
I grew skin again.
I stitched a spine
from all the nights I didn’t die.
I started saying:
that hurts.
I started asking:
why do you speak to me like that?
Suddenly,
I was difficult.
Suddenly,
there was drama.
She twisted my boundaries
into blame,
my healing
into betrayal.
She said I changed—
and she was right.
I stopped bleeding for her comfort.
And that was the end
of a love
that only lived
in my silence.




this hits home ! Beautiful !!!!
“She said I changed—
and she was right.
I stopped bleeding for her comfort.
And that was the end
of a love
that only lived
in my silence.”
This part 💔❤️🩹