I used to hold truth
like a weapon —
sharp, clean, final.
But now it moves.
Not like a lie,
not like denial —
but like a tide
that’s been waiting for me
to grow strong enough
to swim deeper.
What I swore was solid,
now trembles in my hands.
Not because it was false —
but because I’ve changed.
And now I fear
not the truth itself,
but the way
it keeps becoming.
This one came out of nowhere, like most real things do.
I used to think truth was something you held — solid, fixed.
Now I know it’s something that moves with you, or it breaks you.
I wrote this for anyone who’s ever looked at their past, their love, or their own reflection… and felt it tremble, not because it was false, but because they’ve changed.
