Weight of Petals (Him pt.4)

 He was not flawless.

His words sometimes missed their mark, falling heavy, like rain that promised life but left the soil flooded instead.

She carried those storms within her chest, believing herself too fragile, too tangled with thorns to ever be called beautiful.

She thought the world saw her as if she were just weeds; unwanted, unchosen, a wildness to be cut away.

But Him; he stepped into her shadows with hands that shook, with a voice that cracked. Though he could not banish the darkness, he stood with her inside it.

When she broke,

He gathered the pieces not to mend them perfectly, but to remind her they were still hers.

When she doubted her worth,

He laid his gaze upon her like sunlight daring roses to open. Like spring insisting on blooming even in the ruins of frost.

She wanted a savior.

He could never be that. He could not heal every wound, nor hold back every tide.

But what he gave was quieter: A steady presence, a refusal to leave, a mirror that showed her what she had always been.

In His eyes, she was not weeds. She was a wild garden growing stronger with every storm.

And though he was imperfect; though His roots were tangled too, he became the proof that love does not need perfection to bring someone back to life.

She rose again, petals trembling, thorns intact, breathing in her own strength for the first time.

She rose, mightily into the sky. 

Because of Him.