She’s afraid of love Not because she doesn’t crave it But because she’s only seen it As a battlefield with no winners She grew up in a house Where “I love you” was followed by yelling Where doors slammed louder than hearts beat And silence was the loudest language spoken She watched two people stay Not out of joy, but out of habit Out of fear, out of duty Out of everything but love So now, when someone reaches for her hand She flinches—not from them, but from memory She wonders if kindness is just the calm Before the next storm She doesn’t know how to trust Not because she’s broken But because no one ever taught her That love could be gentle She’s afraid to fall Because she doesn’t know if she’ll be caught Or criticized Or crushed But deep down, she hopes That maybe love isn’t what she saw Maybe it’s laughter without fear Maybe it’s softness that stays She’s learning, slowly That she can write her own definition That love doesn’t have to hurt And she doesn’t have to settle for survival