I See Clearly Now

I see clearly now.

The fog has lifted, and with it, every illusion I once called love.

I offered love — real love.

Love that stares with open eyes and drinks in every molecule.

Love that is presence, body, heart, and soul aligned.

Love that wanted to merge with truth, not fantasy.

You could not meet me there.

Instead of reverence, you brought mockery.

Instead of presence, you demanded distractions.

Instead of union, you pushed me toward degradation.

You began with tenderness, then layered in corruption.

You tried to turn my sacred body into an empty prop for your emptiness.

You thought I would bend and break.

But I didn’t.

You wanted a porn script.

I wanted divine union.

That mismatch was never my failure.

I see your wandering eyes, your jealousy games, your winks at strangers, your hunger for anything but me.

I see the escalation, the pressure, the control.

I see the hollowness behind it.

I am not blind.

I am not stupid.

I am not small.

I am rare.

I am luminous.

I am not replaceable.

You didn’t destroy me.

You revealed yourself.

And I chose to walk away intact.

I release you, and I release the lies.

I keep my love.

I keep my presence.

I keep my wholeness.

What I carry is mine.

What you tried to take never belonged to you.

I am free.

For a while, I believed your charm. I mistook manipulation for passion, possession for intimacy, performance for devotion. But clarity is a fierce kind of mercy. It doesn’t whisper — it burns.

The residue of your energy still clung to me for a time — the phantom ache, the looping thoughts, the way trauma echoes through the body like smoke through a cathedral. But I learned to let the smoke rise and thin, to breathe it out, to stop inhaling what was never clean.

You were a teacher of contrast.

You taught me what love is not.

You taught me what power looks like when it’s lost.

You showed me what happens when a man mistakes control for connection and conquest for intimacy.

I watched your soul rot behind your smirk. I watched you starve in the banquet of your own emptiness. You were always hungry because you refused to eat truth. You wanted endless novelty instead of depth, and you called that freedom.

But freedom without conscience is chaos.

Desire without reverence is addiction.

Sex without soul is self-erasure.

And I refuse to vanish.

So I stand here now, after the collapse, in the silence that follows the storm. My skin remembers what it felt like to be touched without respect, but it also remembers sunlight. My heart knows betrayal, but it also knows resurrection.

You may have touched my body, but you never reached my essence. You may have tried to script me into your fantasy, but I rewrote the ending. I reclaimed the story. I walked myself home.

I see now that love is not about sacrifice. It is not about bleeding to prove devotion. It is not about dimming to keep another comfortable. Love is illumination — the divine mirror in which both souls rise together or not at all.

And if one refuses the mirror, the other must walk toward the light alone.

I walk alone now, but not lonely. I walk with clarity, with God, with my own restored reflection. I walk with the knowing that what I offered was sacred, and what you rejected was salvation.

The residue is gone.

The spell is broken.

The lesson is sealed.

You were never the storm — I was.

You were never the light — I am.

You were never the ending — I am the beginning again.

I see clearly now.

And nothing, and no one, will ever take my vision again.