There is a terrifying beauty in the moment the heart decides to open again. After years of building walls, checking locks, and convincing ourselves that the cold is safer than the flame, a single spark catches. It feels like a betrayal of the person who swore they were done with this, yet it feels like the first deep breath after a long winter. To fall in love again is an act of rebellion—a quiet, brave refusal to let the past have the final word on your happiness.
The Second Sunrise
I told my heart the doors were bolted tight,
That I had learned to navigate the night.
I built a fortress out of stone and salt,
And brought the turning world to a sudden halt.
"Never again," I whispered to the dust,
Watching the hinges settle into rust.
But then you came, a soft and steady light,
A gentle blur against the black and white.
No crashing thunder or a sudden storm,
Just a quiet way of making shadows warm.
And one by one, the heavy iron bars,
Began to reflect the light of new-found stars.
It’s frightening to feel the thaw begin,
To let the wild, uncertain weather in.
To risk the breaking and the sharp-edged fall,
To hear the echoes through the hollow hall.
But there’s a music in the way you speak,
That makes the strongest fortress feel so weak.
So here I am, with hands that slightly shake,
Ready to see what new path we might make.
A second blooming in a tired field,
A heart that’s finally willing now to yield.
The winter’s over, though the scars remain,
I’m brave enough to fall in love again.
Falling in love the second time is actually braver than the first. The first time, you didn't know how much it could hurt; this time, you know exactly what’s at stake, and you choose to walk forward anyway. It is an acknowledgment that the potential for joy is worth the risk of pain. You aren't erasing your history; you are simply starting a new chapter where the light is allowed to shine through the cracks of everything you’ve survived.
