I offered a piece of my heart,
and it was enough.
It has always been enough.
Not everyone will know
how to hold what I give.
Some will turn away,
carrying their own quiet storms.
I let them go gently,
like leaves falling from my hands.
I call my warmth back to me —
a soft golden tide
rising in my chest.
I rest inside it,
whole, untouched,
unchanged by another’s weather.
I am here.
I am mine.
I am enough.
