I leave my smile
to those who swore it was real,
who mistook the curve of my lips
for a map to happiness.
I leave my silence
to those who filled it with their own truths,
who dictated what I felt
while never asking what I carried.
I leave my laughter, brittle as glass,
to the rooms that echoed it back
without hearing the crack beneath.
And my sorrow,
I bury it with me,
for no one believed it lived here anyway.
This is all I have to give,
not money, not treasures,
only the remnants of a heart
misnamed, misread,
and finally laid to rest.