Moving On

I stand at the crossroads of what was,

fingers tracing the edges of memories,

each one a quiet whisper,

a touch, a word, a glance

that flickered with something

I couldn't name.

The first time I felt it—

a spark from across the distance,

too far to hold,

yet too strong to ignore.

What I thought was only a dream,

an echo of longing,

became something more—

a storm wrapped in sweetness,

clouds of desire scattered with guilt.

I lost myself there,

in the longing for something

I couldn’t quite claim,

but with him,

I nearly saw it,

the life we could have had

if we’d only believed.

But belief was a fragile thing,

and in the end,

I let it slip from my hands,

holding instead a shadow

of what was never meant to be.

And yet,

there was something,

something in the way we spoke,

a connection like a thread,

tangled in the quiet spaces

between words,

in the way I wanted to be wanted,

but was afraid to ask for.

He became a ghost,

the one I thought I needed

to fill the spaces

of a heart too scared to love.

I almost gave him my everything,

a promise without roots,

but I knew—

deep down I knew—

that it wasn’t enough,

not the way I needed it to be.

I needed more than what I could see.

Then, he came,

the one whose presence

felt like a promise,

but one I couldn't trust

until I did,

until I realized

that I was the one

I had to believe in.

He didn’t need to be perfect,

didn’t need to fix me,

just needed to be real,

just needed to let me be.

And here I stand now,

at the edge of something new,

and I’m scared.

Scared of falling again,

scared of how it feels

to be wanted without the baggage

of the past weighing me down.

Scared that the storm I carried with them

might cloud this new sky.

But I know now,

that I don’t need to hold onto the past

to move forward.

That my worth is not in their hands,

not in the love that wasn’t right,

but in the space I created for myself.

I don’t need to explain why I held on

or why I let go.

All I know is this:

there’s something waiting for me

beyond these walls

of old desire,

something I can’t yet name,

but I’m ready to reach for it,

to see if this feeling can be real.