When I feel all alone,
I wish I weren’t.
“Just call.”
“I’m here.”
But you’re not.
You wouldn’t want
what comes with me—
the weight,
the sadness
that doesn’t wash off.
I talk.
Too much, maybe.
Express. Repress.
Repeat.
Would it help
if I said less?
“I’m sorry… but.”
“I wish I could… but.”
They say
what doesn’t kill you
makes you stronger.
But must it hurt this much?
And what if
one day,
it does?
I won’t let this be
just another victim story.
I will not surrender
my healing,
my light,
my rise.
No.
That belongs to me—
and the Universe with me,
the quiet presence
that stayed
when no one else did.
I may be cracked,
but I am not lost.
I have ME—
resilient, radiant ME—
and together we are a force,
not to wage war,
but to walk forward
into the light
we’re still becoming.
*edited ending 9/26/25
