Until They're Not

The world is full of them.

Tired people.

Beautiful, sharp-edged people.

People who’ve walked through fire with nothing but grit and sheer will keeping them upright.

People who were told love had a timeline, an expiration date, a dress code.

They believed it once.

They tried.

They offered everything — their time, their trust, their softness —

And for that, they were left bleeding.

So they stopped.

Closed shop.

Said, “I’m done with that.”

Love is for the young.

Love is for the unscarred.

Love is for those who still believe they’re worthy.

Right?

But the thing about people like that —

The ones who swear off hope —

Is that they still feel it spark

In the quietest moments.

When someone sees them — really sees them — and doesn’t flinch.

When a stranger laughs the way their heart used to.

When their body, despite it all, still remembers touch.

Love doesn’t knock politely.

It creeps in through cracked windows.

It shows up messy and late.

It doesn’t care that you gave up.

It doesn’t care that you stopped dressing up for it.

It only cares that, beneath the armor,

You still want to be seen.

And you —

You’re one of them.

Tired.

Beautiful.

Sharp-edged.

You think you’re done with love.

But maybe

Just maybe

Love isn’t done with you.

-Saj