Birdie

You were ecstatic. I was terrified.
You told everyone. I told no one.

I wanted to go slow. I wanted to be sure this time. I wanted to know you were going to be my forever—and mean it. So I didn’t welcome this love with open arms. I tried to keep you at a distance. But that first night together, my walls came crashing down.

You made me feel everything I thought I’d never feel again. It wasn’t lust. It was freedom from myself. Like I had been a bird trapped in a cage for years, finally set loose into the open air.

As the days turned into weeks and weeks into months, you showered me with love, affection, and attention. It consumed me. I craved it like a drug. And somewhere along the way, I found myself back in that cage again.

I thought if I stayed small enough, careful enough, complacent enough, the feeling would never leave. If I flew too far away, maybe you would too. So I held on tightly. I stayed inside the cage because I thought it was the only way to keep you.

But you left anyway—suddenly, almost effortlessly. Because love was never meant to be caged. And maybe we were never meant to be forever.

We shared our hopes, our dreams, the future we imagined. In every version of it, we were together. And after being alone for so many years, your company—your version of loving me—felt like enough.

So I stopped setting boundaries. I stopped putting myself first. I made us my priority, only to realize I had never truly been yours. Loving you became my whole world, while loving me became your pastime.

You doubted yourself constantly. Your worth. Your value. And I saw every beautiful thing in you. I could have spent every sunrise and sunset reminding you of all that you deserved. But somewhere in loving you so deeply, I forgot to see my own worth—and how much losing it was costing me.

Eventually, that little bird outgrew her cage. She broke free and spread her wings wide enough to carry herself away. You couldn’t catch her anymore. Maybe not even if you tried.

But the truth is, you didn’t try. You let her fly away because somewhere deep down, you knew she was always meant to be free.

And every now and then, she still lands on a branch nearby—wondering, hoping, that maybe one day you’ll look up, see her there, and try to catch her one more time.