Voir Dire-On Love POTD
I will tell the truth:
love is not always kind,
and it is rarely fair.
It does not arrive on cue
with music swelling behind it.
Sometimes it comes limping,
late, unsure, smelling faintly of regret.
Love does not fix you.
It finds you mid-sentence,
mid-failure,
mid-life—
and listens anyway.
I tell the truth:
love is not the absence of loneliness.
It is loneliness
sitting beside another loneliness,
agreeing not to leave first.
Love forgets anniversaries
and remembers the sound of your cough
at three in the morning.
It argues about nothing
and forgives something enormous
without ever naming it.
Here is the hardest truth:
love does not promise forever.
It promises now—
this cup of tea going cold,
this hand still reaching
even when it knows how easily
hands let go.
And yet—
I swear this too:
when love is real,
it teaches the heart
how to stand in the witness box
and still say,
without rehearsing,
“Yes.
I was afraid.
Yes.
I stayed.”
POTD 02/10/2026
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