I see you.
Not the sting,
Not the fire you throw when the world grows cold.
Not the silence you use as armor,
Or the storm you summon when words fail you.

I see her —
the one behind the eyes.
The one who is tired,
But still wild.
The one who is wounded,
But still rises with teeth,
Not to destroy,
But to survive.

You attack.
I do not run away.
Because I feel that fire —
It is not anger.
It is fear disguised as rage.
It is love,
That cries out through scars.

And me?
I did not fall in love with your fire.
I fell in love with the woman behind it.
The one who never asks to be saved,
Just to be seen.

And I see you.
Every day.
Even when you forget who you are —
I do not.

That's the woman I love.