LOVE and LOST

Healing

Softly, I gather

what remains of my heart

not to make it what it was,

but to shape it into something gentler.

Healing is quiet work

a sunrise after storms,

a wound learning the language of light,

a soul remembering how to bloom again.

-Still Me

I look at who I am

and start collecting pieces

I wish were different

the words I spoke wrong,

the softness I call weakness, the flaws I trace

like old scars with restless fingers.

I imagine another version of me

stronger, brighter, easier to love,

someone untouched by old hurt,

someone who does not overthink,

does not break so easily,

does not carry so much heaviness

behind tired eyes.

I want to peel away

every part that feels broken, reshape myself

into someone I can finally admire

someone who feels enough

in their own skin.

But maybe change

is not becoming someone else entirely.

Maybe it is taking

the wounded, weary parts of me

and teaching them

how to heal, how to grow,

how to become something softer, wiser,

and still unmistakably me.

-Self Love

I am learning

to speak to myself with kindness

instead of cruelty to see my reflection

not as a list of flaws, but as a life

still unfolding beautifully.

To hold my own heart

with gentle hands, to forgive who I was,

to honor who I am,

and to trust that becoming

is its own kind of beauty.

Self-love is not vanity

it is coming home

to yourself, and deciding

to stay

-Myself

I do not need

another heartbeat beside mine

to prove my life is full.

There is joy

in standing on my own in quiet mornings,

in laughter that is mine, in building a life

that feels like home from the inside out.

Love can be beautiful, but it is not breath,

not sunlight, not the only song

my soul can sing.

I am whole

with my own hands to hold,

my own heart to nurture, and a happiness

that does not depend on someone choosing

to stay.