Mended Hunger

I used to live on crumbs.

A late reply.

A “miss you” at 2 a.m.

A half-hearted plan

You’d cancel like it was weather.

﹁﹂

And I’d call it hope.

I’d call it romance.

I’d call it “we’re complicated,”

as if complication was a halo

and not a warning sign.

﹁﹂

My hunger got good at pretending

smiling at tiny portions,

saying thank you for almost,

telling my friends I was fine

while my stomach made prayers

out of emptiness.

﹁﹂

Then one day, I ate a full meal alone.

Nothing fancy

rice, eggs, a little hot sauce,

a glass of water I actually finished.

And I realized

I was tired of begging

for emotional leftovers.

﹁﹂

So I stopped checking my phone

like it was a pulse.

I stopped rehearsing messages

That made me smaller.

I stopped starving.

﹁﹂

The hunger didn’t vanish right away.

It sulked.

It tried to drag me back

to familiar crumbs.

﹁﹂

But peace started showing up

quietly,

like a steady appetite

not urgent, not dramatic,

just enough.

And, finally, mine.