27/01/2026
A poem to the one who cares !
Some days I’m lost before I speak,
my mind is tired, my body weak.
I ask the same things, night and day,
and push your patience far away.
I know this road is cruel and long,
I know it asks you to be strong
on days you’re empty, worn, and numb,
still loving me when words won’t come.
I see the tears you never show,
the grief you carry as you go.
You’re mourning me while I’m still here
that kind of love is pure and fierce.
If you feel close to giving in,
if guilt and doubt are closing in,
please hear this truth I need you to:
this illness is not failure it’s true.
You are not weak for needing rest,
or wondering if you can give less.
You are not wrong for needing help,
or choosing care beyond yourself.
Even when I forget your name,
or see a stranger where you remain,
my heart still knows your gentle way,
your love still reaches me each day.
So if you’re tired, pause, breathe, cry.
You don’t have to be the sky
that holds the storm both night and day
you’re allowed to step away.
Loving me should not erase
your body, soul, or sense of place.
If you are struggling, hear this too:
it means you’ve loved me deeply true.
Even as my memories fade,
nothing you’ve given is betrayed.
Your care has mattered. Every part.
I may forget but not your heart.
