Torn Between

Torn between ur kids & ur own wounded heart, and the truth ur afraid to fully speak

I stand in the hallway between hearts,
barefoot on shattered years,
each step a choice I never asked to make.

My children pull at my sleeves with silent eyes,
their small hearts carrying fractures
they were too young to earn.
They look at me like home—
and I am trying so hard not to crumble.

My own heart is no better,
stitched together with regret and longing,
beating for love that hurt me
and love that needs me to be whole.
It aches in ways I don’t say out loud,
because mothers learn early
how to swallow pain quietly.

The truth sits heavy in my chest—
that love is not simple,
that loyalty can tear you in two,
that choosing healing sometimes feels like betrayal
to the past you survived.

I am torn between staying strong
and admitting I am tired.
Between protecting them from the damage
and being honest about the damage done to me.

Their broken hearts call me forward.
My broken heart begs to rest.
And somewhere in between,
I am trying to choose truth
without breaking anyone else again.

So I stand here—
not failing, not fleeing—
just loving as best as I can
while being pulled apart
by the people I love most.