She Didn’t Save Him. But She Stayed.

He didn’t believe in soulmates.

He barely believed in himself.

But something about her presence

felt less like a blessing

and more like a calling.

She didn’t burst into his life with fireworks—

she slipped in like a psalm,

quiet, steady,

and stayed.

Before her, life was thunder.

His peace came in punches, not prayers.

But when she was near,

even the silence softened.

She didn’t try to fix him.

She just reminded him

he wasn’t beyond repair.

Every time her hand found his,

the past lost a little more ground.

She never begged him to stay—

but somehow,

he forgot how to leave.

Even the pain made sense with her.

Because it came wrapped in something holy.

He used to wear rage like armor.

Now he wears her name

like it’s written on his heart.

She became his quiet place

in a world that never shuts up.

And if God ever calls her home before him,

he’ll search the ruins of every season

until he finds her again—

even if it takes

forever.

// why the poetry?

Simple.

We’re getting throttled. Shadow-muted. Pushed to the bottom of the feed.

So we’re shifting tactics.

Not compromising—just slipping in the side door.

These poems aren’t fluff.

They’re truth dressed in scars.

Real stories, real faith, real fire.

If something I wrote hit you…

If it helped, healed, or reminded you you’re not alone—

like it. restack it. share it.

It helps us bypass the gatekeepers

and get this work in front of the ones who need it.

Your support means more than you know.

Thank you.