*I had a really hard time with this one, and had some help... lots to express.

I do not want to cage you.
I have seen what happens. when a spirit built for movement. begins to suffocate.

So I swallow my fears quietly. while you chase another horizon,
another concert,
another road that calls your name louder than I do.

And maybe that is what hurts.

Not the trips themselves,
but the silence around them.
The absence of
“Come with me.”
The absence of
“I wish you were here.”

I imagine you there—
music loud enough to forget the world,
laughing with strangers. who do not know your history,
who only see your smile in motion,
the version of you that feels light again.

And I am happy for that freedom in you…
and still, something inside me tighten
at the thought of how easily you can become a stranger to me
while becoming fully alive somewhere else.

You leave so easily,
while I remain standing at the edge
of your life,
trying not to ask
whether there is truly room for me in it.

And sometimes fear slips in quietly,
not as certainty,
but as a shadow my mind walks toward. when I feel far away from you.

Not a truth I want to believe,
but a fear that appears. in the spaces you don’t speak into:
that in the brightness of those nights. and the anonymity of new places,
you might forget the shape of “us.”

I tell myself. you are healing.
That sobriety has left your soul restless,
searching for air,
for freedom,
for some version of yourself. that existed before the pain.

And I want that for you.
Truly, I do.

But somewhere inside me. lives a quieter ache:

Will I always be. the woman waiting at home. while you go searching for life elsewhere?

Because the truth is,
I want to feel alive too.

I want wind in my hair. in a country I have never seen.
I want late night streets,
strange music,
sunlight on unfamiliar oceans.
I want stories of my own. instead of standing still. while loving someone always in motion.

I do not need ownership.
I do not need chains.
I do not need every mile beside you.

I only want to feel. that when you see something beautiful,
your heart reaches for me too.

That somewhere between
all your escaping and all my overthinking,
there exists a place
where we finally choose each other
without fear.

Because loving someone who loves freedom
is its own kind of heartbreak—
learning how to open your hands
without feeling abandoned
when they fly.

And maybe love was never meant. to keep either of us small,
but to find a way
for both of us
to feel free
while still returning
to one another.