Quietly Saying Not Yet

I had laid my weapons down,
not with thunder, not with sound,
not by fire, not by flame,

only tired of the game.
Tired of standing, tired of steel,
tired of wounds I could not heal,
tired of saying, “I’m all right,”

to the hollow rooms at night.
Sleep had lost its gentle art,
music missed my aching heart,
every song I used to know
left me colder in its glow.

So I learned the quiet way
people slowly drift away—
still appearing, still polite,
still alive, but not quite light.
Then you came, not like the sun,
not like battles being won,

not some angel, not some sign,
just your hand held close to mine.
Just your laugh across the dark,
just your kindness, just the spark,
just the way your simple name
made the world feel less the same.
And I felt, beneath the stone,
something stir I’d left alone;

something bruised, afraid, unsure,
knocking softly at the door.
But a heart that’s learned to break
does not know which roads to take.
Trust comes limping, slow and sore,
always watching for the door.
Maybe you are frightened too,
maybe ghosts still follow you,
maybe both our hearts have known
how to feel unsafe at home.

So we stand, but not too near,
half in hope and half in fear,
wanting more, yet scared to start,
hands held out around the heart.

I may flinch when silence stays,
hear old endings in new days,
read goodbye in every pause,
doubt the open, search for flaws.
You may wonder if I’ll run,
if my shadows weigh a ton,
if the love I long to give
knows enough of trust to live.
Still, you make the darkness bend,
make me question where things end,
make the night, however deep,
feel like something I might keep.
Not because the pain is gone,
not because I’m suddenly strong,
not because I know what’s true,
only this—

I found you.
And if love is still a fight,
if we tremble through the night,
if we’re scared and still not done,
maybe that is how we run.
Not with certainty or pride,
but with fear held side by side,
two hurt hearts that won’t forget,
quietly saying:
not yet.
Not yet.
I won’t give up.
Not yet.