Rachel
Favoured Frenzy
(This poem was born in April, during a time of emotional conflict and silent heartbreak. It remained unpublished then — held back at the request of the person it spoke of, someone who returned with apologies, promises, and hopes of patching things up. For a while, I believed again… only to realize those promises were hollow, and the love I received was not real, but rehearsed. And written balance of this poem a few days before
Now, standing on the other side of that chapter, I’ve found clarity. “The Love That Taught Me” is not just a reflection on what I endured — it’s a declaration of self-worth, of walking away not out of weakness, but strength. It's about learning that real love doesn't come wrapped in lies, and that sometimes, the greatest kind of love is the one you give to yourself.)
I loved with a heart wide open,
trusting dreams spun from silver thread,
believing in promises whispered
between the spaces of loneliness and hope.
I held on through storms and silence,
patched the cracks with my own hands,
willing to stay, willing to heal —
even when I was the only one trying.
But love that is true never asks
for a heart to beg for its place.
It doesn't hide behind lies,
nor blame the broken for bleeding.
I walked away not because I loved less,
but because I think I should love myself more.
Some wounds don't deserve to stay open,
and some people don't deserve your forever.
Today, I carry no anger, only memories —
some soft, some heavy, all real.
And though your chapter remains,
I write my story beyond your name.
One day, love will find me again —
not in borrowed dreams or half-spoken promises,
but in a heart that stays,
without needing to be asked.
Until then, I am enough.
I am my own peace.
I am my own home.
Now, standing on the other side of that chapter, I’ve found clarity. “The Love That Taught Me” is not just a reflection on what I endured — it’s a declaration of self-worth, of walking away not out of weakness, but strength. It's about learning that real love doesn't come wrapped in lies, and that sometimes, the greatest kind of love is the one you give to yourself.)
I loved with a heart wide open,
trusting dreams spun from silver thread,
believing in promises whispered
between the spaces of loneliness and hope.
I held on through storms and silence,
patched the cracks with my own hands,
willing to stay, willing to heal —
even when I was the only one trying.
But love that is true never asks
for a heart to beg for its place.
It doesn't hide behind lies,
nor blame the broken for bleeding.
I walked away not because I loved less,
but because I think I should love myself more.
Some wounds don't deserve to stay open,
and some people don't deserve your forever.
Today, I carry no anger, only memories —
some soft, some heavy, all real.
And though your chapter remains,
I write my story beyond your name.
One day, love will find me again —
not in borrowed dreams or half-spoken promises,
but in a heart that stays,
without needing to be asked.
Until then, I am enough.
I am my own peace.
I am my own home.
