It feels like standing in a barren field
where love once grew.
You gave it everything:
time, care, and pieces of yourself.
But no matter how much you watered,
the roots never took hold.
Now the ground is cracked and tired,
a graveyard for all the dreams
you planted together.
Your hands still ache
from pulling weeds that weren’t yours,
from holding onto something
that was never going to bloom.
And here they come,
someone new, with seeds in their hands
telling you to try again.
You want to believe them,
but the soil feels too broken.
The thought of tending another garden
feels like an impossible ask.
Still, you kneel,
your heart heavy with doubt.
You bury the seeds,
but you're scared to hope,
scared to pour yourself into another harvest
that might never come.
Because even as you plant,
you can’t forget the way it felt
to watch love wither in your hands.
where love once grew.
You gave it everything:
time, care, and pieces of yourself.
But no matter how much you watered,
the roots never took hold.
Now the ground is cracked and tired,
a graveyard for all the dreams
you planted together.
Your hands still ache
from pulling weeds that weren’t yours,
from holding onto something
that was never going to bloom.
And here they come,
someone new, with seeds in their hands
telling you to try again.
You want to believe them,
but the soil feels too broken.
The thought of tending another garden
feels like an impossible ask.
Still, you kneel,
your heart heavy with doubt.
You bury the seeds,
but you're scared to hope,
scared to pour yourself into another harvest
that might never come.
Because even as you plant,
you can’t forget the way it felt
to watch love wither in your hands.
