The Quiet Battle

I bent until I broke in two,

Believing that’s what love must do,

But love, I learned, won’t make you small,

It doesn’t ask you not to call.

I hushed the part that spoke my name,

Erased myself and took the blame.

But truth kept pounding in my chest:

This isn’t care, this isn’t rest.

Each time I spoke, I felt too much, 

Too sharp, too deep, too soft to touch,

So I got quiet, but not the kind,

That waits for someone else to find.

I left the battles built on loops,

The tired tones, the empty hoops,

I saw how silence speaks more true ,

Than any plea that bends for you.

I don’t chase answers. I don’t kneel,

I don’t pretend that numb can heal,

My worth is not a game or test,

I hold it now, close to my chest.

So when I go, I go complete,

Not shattered, small, or in retreat,

You’ll speak, you’ll spin, but I won’t stay,

I’ve found my voice. I’ve had my say.

Cathrine Hottran 2025