There's a room inside me
I don’t go into anymore
The light switch still works
The dust knows the shape of my old smile
She’s there...
the version of me who didn’t overthink “good morning” texts
Who cried for five minutes and then moved on
Who trusted first, questioned later
Who thought broken meant fixable, always.
I press my palm to the door sometimes
I can hear her breathing
Carefree!
Unbothered by the weight I carry now
like a second spine
I want to walk in and say sorry
for all the things life made me learn
that taught me how to leave rooms
before they could hurt me
But doors only open one way
And I’m not her anymore
I am softer in places
harder in others
I read silences now
She only heard words
So, I leave her flowers at the threshold
Old songs
Old jokes only we understood
A quiet “thank you”
for teaching me how to feel
before I learned how to protect myself
I can’t return to her






