Too Much

I loved loud. Not in volume — in intensity. In showing up. In remembering the little things you forgot you ever said. In texts at 2am because I couldn’t sleep without making sure you were okay. I loved in playlists. In forehead kisses. In “did you eat today?” and “text me when you get home.” I loved in the way I bent to fit the shape of your storms. Let them pour through me and still called it sunshine. And you — You smiled, like you liked it. Like you wanted to be chosen that hard. Until you didn’t. Until my love started feeling like pressure. Like too much. Like a weight you couldn’t carry because you never planned on holding it that long anyway. I loved too much. Too deeply. Too fully. But what the hell is “too much” when you’re giving someone everything and hoping they stay? Too much should be enough. But instead, you got quiet. Started backing away like my love was a fire and you were just close enough to feel the warmth, but not enough to burn. And I? I caught fire. I turned myself to ash trying to make you comfortable. I apologized for being the girl who gave a damn. For loving in full color When you only wanted grayscale. So now I sit here With this heart that still beats too loud In a world that wants it quiet. And I wonder… What do you do with a love that was never wrong, just too much for someone who never planned on staying?