joy isn't found, it's made,
woven into moments of light,
like sunlight through leaves,
or laughter shared late at night.
you don't have to search far;
joy lives in small things—
a warm cup in your hands,
a song you hum quietly,
a memory that makes you smile.
piece by piece,
you gather it close.
YOU ARE READING
becoming whole.
Poetry"over the years, i've gathered these thoughts, feelings, and fragments of myself-scribbled down in moments of clarity, pain, and hope. "becoming whole" is the result of that journey, a collection of poetry that grew alongside me as i learned to heal...
