Nostalgia is a bit funny. Flashback. I’m in your arms, looking deep into your eyes. I remember how there in your embrace; I felt so safe. But I mistook safety for love. I keep all the moments of why I stayed, as if blind to the lies that pushed me to leave. I ran before asking questions, I ran because I wasn’t in love; I realize that now. I was hungry for a love I couldn’t even give myself. I needed grace long before I knew what it was. Before being generous with spreading love around in hopes some might be saved for me, I should have started with myself. I admit I’m broken, and I might never put the pieces back together to make it what it was. The cracks are there and some days they’re sharper than others; leading me to a black hole of questions I’m still trying to find answers to. I might never understand but I pray I’ll water the cracks long enough for something to bloom.