#f.c

I wish there was a way for our lips, our bodies, to feel closer. I want to melt into you.

A bonnet used to mean war.

Soft silk,

elastic edges,

something meant to hold

turned into something that unraveled us.

We were two women

arguing over fabric

like it carried the weight

of everything we couldn’t say out loud

trust,

attention,

the quiet fear

of being replaced.

You never looked at me

like I was enough on my own.

There was always a courtroom in your eyes,

always another case being built,

another version of me

that didn’t win.

So we fought

not about the bonnet,

not really..

but about being seen,

about being chosen

without hesitation.

And I lost you

in the smallest way possible.

The other night,

a birthday,

laughter floating easy in the air

someone handed her a bonnet.

And my chest tightened

like memory still had claws.

But this time,

no argument followed.

No sharp words,

no breaking point.

Just a smile,

a quiet thank you,

a softness I didn’t have to defend.

Because now,

a bonnet means something different.

It means trust.

It means patience.

It means I don’t have to fight

to be understood.

I don’t feel watched

for flaws anymore.

I don’t feel like a placeholder

for someone better.

I feel held.

I feel chosen

in ways that don’t need proof.

And still..

your name found its way into the room that night,

like it always does,

uninvited but familiar.

I wondered,

not out of longing,

but curiosity

if the storms we made

followed you forward,

or if you learned

how to be calm with someone else.

If the bonnet

is still a battlefield

in your hands,

or if it finally became

what it was meant to be.

Now when I see one,

I won’t flinch.

I won’t remember the breaking.

I’ll remember

that I survived it.

That something soft

can exist without turning sharp.

That love,

real love,

doesn’t argue over edges

or unravel at the seams.

It’s accepting someone unconditionally

Like I tried to do with you.

Despite what I’ve always said,

I don’t hate you.

I never could.

But there are pieces of me

that still carry your fingerprints

scattered,

reshaped,

a little less whole than before.

And maybe that’s the truth

no one tells you:

sometimes healing

isn’t about becoming untouched again.

It’s about learning

how to be loved

I'm getting on my nerves again

Sitting on my hands all day, yeah

Wanting everything to change

Sometimes I don't try

But I keep falling in love

With you, again

I keep falling in love

I know it's true

'Cause I keep falling in love

With you, again

I keep falling in love

It’s simple – were these United goal scored by someone who began the game or a sub?