I used to think healing
meant forgetting,
meant burying the past
like it never lived in me.
But I’ve learned
it means remembering without breaking.
It means growing
from the ashes,
not pretending there was never fire.

I don’t need closure from her.
I gave it to myself.
No apology,
no explanation,
just the quiet truth
that some people are chapters
not endings.

The mirror looks different now.
Not because I changed overnight,
but because I finally see
someone worth choosing
even if no one else does.

There’s strength in starting over.
There’s power in soft things
that refuse to stay broken.
And I’ve carried my scars
like seeds,
planted them deep,
and watched something bloom
where pain once lived.

This is not a rebound.
Not a distraction.
Not a mask.

This is me,
unlearning the ache,
rebuilding the soul,
making space
for a love that feels like home
without having to beg for the key.

So here I stand
not with regret,
but with grace.
Not with wounds,
but with roots.

This is where I begin again.
Not because I lost her,
but because I finally
found myself.

There was a time I called it love
the kind that hurt,
the kind that stayed too long,
the kind that taught me
to forget myself
just to keep someone else.

But love shouldn't
make you smaller
just to fit inside
someone else's heart.

I spent years watering
a garden she never planned to grow,
waiting for something to bloom
from soil already turned to stone.
And when she left,
I thought I was the one
who was empty.

But now,
the silence doesn't sting.
The memories don’t wear her perfume.
I see her face
without wondering if I could’ve done more.

Because I did
I gave more than I had,
and now I’m giving that back
to me.

I've learned that letting go
isn't giving up.
It's giving in
to what deserves space:
peace,
clarity,
a future that doesn’t wait
on someone who never stayed.

She was a lesson
not a loss.
A reflection of who I was,
not who I’ll become.

And maybe love didn’t last,
but growth did.
And I’m still here,
standing taller,
rooted deeper,
finally blooming
for myself.

They said I was too quiet,
like silence meant I broke
But storms don’t always thunder,
sometimes they just choke.

I wore a mask of "I’m fine,"
stitched from every lie I knew,
Tried to blend in with the shadows
just to dodge what I’d been through.

The mirror became a war zone,
my reflection, not my friend,
Every scar a souvenir
of trying hard to pretend.

But I’m more than all my doubters,
more than every “you won’t last,”
I built a future out of ashes,
from the pieces of my past.

So here I stand, still breathing,
cracked but full of fight
A flame they couldn’t smother,
a soul still chasing light.

They can keep their empty echoes,
their scripts, their plastic crown
'Cause I’ve learned to write my story,
and I’m never backing down.