I spoke my truth not to bind you,
But because the heart, when full, must speak.
What I offered was not a demand,
Only a confession
Pure, deliberate, and sincere.
If my words arrived before their season,
I pray they do not bruise our friendship,
For I treasure it
Not as a consolation,
But as something already complete and beautiful.
Your presence in my life matters,
Whether love blooms or not.
Yet hear this, gently:
I have not turned away.
I stand at the quiet door of your heart,
Not with force,
Not with impatience,
But with reverence.
I knock not with noise,
But with constancy.
With kindness.
With time.
Knowing that doors are not broken into
They are opened when the soul is ready.
And if that door never opens,
Still, I will honor the house it protects.
Still, I will value the friendship it shelters.
Still, I will respect you, wholly.
This is my promise:
No pressure.
No resentment.
Only truth,
And a heart willing to wait or to remain a friend.
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