Johneta Ohler Poet Free verse

Not a Curse

They said love was a risk.
They didn’t say
it could feel like a staged performance.
I gave my whole heart...
not a rental,
not a sample,
not a “let’s see.”

The whole thing.

And it was handed back to me
creased
bruised
like something returned without a receipt.

So I blamed myself.

Of course I did.

If it was my fault
then I could fix it.
If I was too much
I could be less.
If I loved too loudly
I could whisper next time.

It felt safer
to be defective
than deceived.

But here’s the truth that came after...

slow,
stubborn, 
holy.

Sometimes we trust the wrong people.
And that is not a sin.

Some people show you
what they know you’ll fall for.
They study your softness.
They rehearse tenderness.
They mirror your longing
until it looks like destiny.

And when you finally open,
when you finally say
“Here. Take all of me.”

That’s when the curtain drops.

And you think
you imagined it.

But you didn’t.

You loved honestly.
They loved strategically.

There is a difference.

My curse was never loving too deeply.
My curse was thinking
depth required self-blame.

But I am not at fault
for believing what I was shown.

I am not foolish
for responding to warmth.

I am not broken
for wanting something real.

The only thing that bruised me
was giving oceans
to someone who brought a cup.

And that is not a flaw in the ocean.

That is a limitation of the cup.

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