letting go.
you don't miss them.
you miss the idea of them and the idea of how things used to be.
because how could an illusion be seen as reality?
when they planted seeds of pain in your heart and left you broken.
they weren't there for you when you had to learn how to nurture your pain and glue pieces of your heart back together.
eventually, your pain grew into something beautiful.
now they want to return when they've seen your beauty grow without them?
fuck that.
YOU ARE READING
Motivation.
Poetryhey, stop scrolling. everyone who is reading this: I'm so glad you're alive, I'm so fucking proud of you. you are loved. don't give up, we're almost there. you are going to make it. ♛
