The Weight of it All

The Weight of it All

The Weight of it All

It’s not always heavy
like heartbreak,
or loss,
or a silence that echoes louder than blame.

Sometimes,
it’s the soft pull of memory—
a word unsaid,
a truth unshown,
a version of you left unopened on the shelf.

It’s the way a shirt can hug
what you’re not ready to say,
how color knows your ache
before you do.

It’s the pulse of meaning
stiched beneath cotton,
the breath you took
before you chose to stay.

The weight of it all
isn’t just sorrow—
it’s intention.
It’s energy.
It’s every step you kept taking
when no one clapped.

It’s the layers you wore
to keep warm
before you remembered
you were the fire.

And maybe,
this is how we heal:
not with noise,
but with the quiet
truth
of wearing the very thing
we’ve carried
all along.

This was meant to be.

The Sovenquill


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