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A part of me died that day,
Not with a scream, but reading a text.
A heavy sigh of regret
Leaving silence where hope once lived freely.
Why did I give my roots?
I didn’t mourn it ..not at first.
Grief came in fragments,
Shards of realization cutting me slow.
I bled in the places no one would know,
The kind of wound that doesn’t scab but echoes.
I feel you every time I ***ing breathe.
When my lungs contracts..
And release all this air you and I were suppose to share.
You said your piece, like stones dropped in water,
Ripples swallowing the vision I’d seen for us.
And I stood there, still like a fool or a monument,
Unsure whether to crumble or endure.
But endurance feels like dying when the love has no pulse.
I think the hardest part wasn’t the leaving,
But the knowing
Knowing that who I was with you
Could never exist again.
That version of me burned quiet in your cold.
The ashes scattered in whispers I never answered.
A part of me died,
But isn’t that how growth works?
Sacrifice dressed as heartbreak.
Death disguised as transformation.
I’ve buried parts of myself before,
But this was a funeral I didn’t plan to attend.
Now in the hollow of what’s gone,
There is still faint light.
Like a seed cracking open in the dark.
And maybe it’s not hope, not yet,
But it’s alive.
And I’ll carry it passionately.
Even if it limps, even if it stumbles.
I'll nurture it back to bright.
Because a part of me died tha
t day,
But the rest of me.
Refused.
