What I Learned After You Left

It took me a long time to stop grieving a goodbye you called a gift.

For a while, I made your silence into scripture.

I turned your absence into a reflection of my worth.

I replayed everything,

wondering what I could’ve done to make you stay.

I carried that with me like a scar I forgot how to hide.

But time…

Time has a way of softening what once felt sharp.

You didn’t leave because I deserved more.

You left because you believed you were less.

You didn’t trust that you could be loved in your becoming.

And so, you ran

before I could prove you wrong.

That used to hollow me out.

It used to feel like rejection.

But I know now—

love doesn’t run.

Because I wouldn’t have.

It doesn’t hide behind noble excuses.

It doesn’t whisper “you deserve better,” and disappear.

It stays.

It listens.

It learns.

It tries.

It fails sometimes, sure—

but it shows up anyway.

I’ve stopped looking for closure in your absence.

Stopped waiting for apologies that might never come.

I’ve built peace in the places you left undone.

I don’t hate you.

I don’t wish you pain.

I just stopped waiting for you to come back

to prove I was enough.

It’s not my job

to convince someone else to see it.

Because I already know.

I always was.