The one you didn’t get
But I know you always wanted

Everything that kept me awake most nights no longer bother me, all the white noise I kept hearing was gone.

They were right, it is so much harder to write about things you cannot relate to - I can no longer write poems about longing and melancholy.

This is what it feels like to be a writer who has already been healed.

I am happy.

I thank God I am alive.

going home isn’t always
returning to a place.
sometimes
it is returning to yourself.