As I sift through my bathroom shelves,
I ponder over items I made space for, but never used,
Why did I accept what didn't work for me in the first place?
As if with passing time, our chemistry will change.
As if I will come to appreciate that strawberry lotion,
Or the beige foundation sample will grow to blend with my darker skin tone.
Three bags of discarded items later, I gain clarity.
I will be discerning about what I welcome into my space
To only hold space for - what brings me joy.
To only entertain what truly resonates with my spirit.

Recognizing your need for space,
To heal and grow,
I am choosing to step back gently.
Not because my love for you has faded,
But, out of love -  to protect our bond
Before bitterness could consume it entirely.
I am creating space for self-love,
Alongside the love I hold for you.
Even if our paths don't cross again,
I will be the keeper of what remains of our story.

Those cursed with the soul of a nomad,  
Thrive on the adventure of each new road.  
Fearful of settling at a final destination,  
They steer clear of any stagnation.  
Avoidants are the type they tend to seek,
Hoping this path leads to the ultimate peak.

26th day of sobriety, of self-respect  
Detox can be spirit-breaking.  
It often feels like a slow death.  
The cravings pulse with each heartbeat,  
leaving you drained,  
urging you to reach out —  
perhaps by texting, sending an emoji,  
Or maybe just "liking" a post
Consumed by the need to stay attached to what is familiar.  

You dwell on old messages,  
waver between memories of sweetness and pain.  
But one day,  
You find the strength to release them.  
You erase the old threads,  
delete the contact,  
and reclaim yourself.  
You might still relapse  
until you learn to recognize the red flags  
and to stand tall in your conviction  
to avoid repeating the toxic cycle.

Which heartache is worse: failing in love or failing to love? Did you find peace by surrendering to fear - abandoning the spark of your dreams before they even had a chance to begin? Tell me, was it worth it?

Our guards keep out, the hurt and healing, 
When we meet, shrouded in protective walls. 
Each awaits the other to take the first step, 
Both carrying wounds and too afraid to fall.

A bouquet from a man of few poetic words,
Left me at a loss, struggling for words,
Amidst the sunflowers, bright and bold,
I found a key to his home, a chapter to unfold.

It was a symbol of trust, a door opened wide,
An invitation to enter, with nothing to hide,
No poem or love letter could ever convey
The depth of his feelings in such a meaningful way.