The Love That Was Always Mine

Why am I searching for love

that doesn’t exist in you?

There’s a song trembling in my voice,

but still, I wait—

to hear it sung from your mouth.


Why do I silence my own melody,

compress the breath inside me,

just to catch an echo

from your hollow wind?


I stare at the distant moon

as if she holds my secret.

But what does the moon know

of love that lives

only in my chest?


You don’t carry it.

She doesn’t carry it.

Yet I keep handing it over,

like a gift

no one asked for.


Why do I search for home

in eyes that never saw me?

Why do I press my longing

against mirrors,

hoping they’ll show me

something more

than myself?


Tonight, I sit quietly.

No more searching.

No more asking.


The song is still here.

My voice is still warm.

And the love I thought

I was giving away—

it never left me.


It was always mine.

Still is.

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