I tell myself I’m strong,
a fortress built from words,
“Leave him behind, move on,”
I chant, a prayer to numb the hurt.
But then I see his face,
and the walls crumble,
memories crawl through the cracks,
each one a shadow I cannot shake.
I say I don’t feel,
I wear the mask of indifference,
but inside, the ache whispers,
“Remember. You remember everything.”
I lie to myself for safety,
pretending pain is a stranger,
yet it lingers in the corners,
soft and sharp,
a ghost I cannot exorcise.
I am strong, yes,
but strength is not absence of hurt
it is carrying it quietly,
alone, and still choosing to live.