May the bridges I burn, light up my way...

nor cast her words like stones.

Her truth arrives in trembling tones

a bridge, not a barricade.

When she points out what’s shifting,

it’s not to shame but to steady,

to trace the quiet cracks

before they widen into distance.

I’m here, gasping for air

for my love, for us

while you say there is nothing wrong.

But we both feel “us”,

and those words aren’t truth.

She feels the air change first,

the subtle cooling between hearts,

and reaches out, not to accuse,

but to understand, to reconnect.

Yet somehow, her honesty

is met with silence

as if her feelings were storms

instead of signals for shelter.

Still, she stays.

Still, she learns.

Because love, to her,

isn’t about being right

it’s about being real.

And even when her voice trembles,

it carries something sacred:

the will to grow together,