I Only Want You

I won’t pretend this doesn’t hurt—
my chest is hollow, raw, and bare.
The silence you’ve left in your place
echoes in the midnight air.

I know I failed you. I know it deep.
It broke the love we swore to keep.
But, Love, if you’ll just hear me now,
I’ll make it right, I’ll show you how.

No empty vows, no perfect lies—
just me, undone with open eyes.
I see the weight you used to carry—
the hopes I made too hard to marry.

But I have learned, and I have burned
in every way that this heartbreak has turned.
This pain? It’s mine—I breathe it in,
and, still, I’d choose you all again.

I don’t want someone “better,” Love.
No spark or thrill I’m dreaming of.
I don’t want someone new or near—
I only want you; that’s crystal clear.

I won’t date, won’t drift, won’t try
to find your ghost in other eyes.
My heart has closed its doors to all
but you—the rise, the ache, the fall.

If you’ll allow, I’ll hold your fears.
I’ll lean in close, I’ll truly hear.
Your voice, your truth, your quiet ache—
I’ll be the home I failed to make.

I’ll love you softer, love you wise,
with honesty I can’t disguise.
I’ll give you space, and still be near—
not to possess, but to be clear.

I will not rest, not turn away,
until you feel you’re safe to stay.
Until the bridge we’ve scorched and burned
is one we’ve walked and slowly turned.

So here I am, my soul laid bare.
If staying’s a war—I’ll wage it fair.
You’re not a chapter I outgrew.
I don’t want another love. I only want you.