Fortress

What a joy it must be to fall in love without trepidation. To give yourself fully to that whim without fear of being wounded, abandoned, used. Sometimes, I wonder if that part of me still works. Or has my heart been broken too many times to throw caution to the wind?

Sometimes, I see people in love and wonder how they’re so fearless. Fearless, or brave? I’m not sure which they embody, but I know that I am neither. I am timid and shy and unwavering in keeping these walls up. I do not love without bounds—I refuse to.

Once upon a time, I gave and gave and gave. Once upon a time, I poured from this cup until it was bone dry. There was no happily ever after; only an ending that left that cup broken. Shattered into a thousand pieces with no hope of being put back together again.

I do not find peace, nor refuge in the hearts of others. I do not find sanctuary in another’s arms. I am my own—belonging only to myself and no one else. I will not give myself away again. For as long as I live, I will say, “There is no sanctity in love, only in the fortress I built around my heart.”