Some things stay

Three years of love, loss, and everything that came after.

These poems are what I couldn't say when I was cheated on, lied to, and left to piece myself back together with shaking hands. They come from what it felt like to grow up too fast as the oldest child-to become responsible before I ever got to be lighthearted, to carry more than I should have and still be told I was "fine."

I didn't mean to turn my life into poetry. It just hurt too much to leave it as silence.

These pages hold first love and false love, best friends who stayed and ones who became strangers, grief that doesn't always look like grief. They hold betrayal, lies, and love that came with hidden edges. They hold what it means to be the oldest child forced into adulthood too soon, to be a daughter, a best friend, and someone learning how to exist after everything shifted.

Healing here never arrives all at once-only in fragments, like glass learning how to become something sharp enough to survive.

This is heartbreak written in real time.
This is growing up with no instructions.
This is what it looks like to be played-and still choose to heal anyway.