Between Bruises & Blooms

You don’t get
to miss me now.

Not after teaching me
what your absence
felt like.

Not after I learned
the exact weight
of an unanswered message.

Not after every night
I tried to convince myself
that silence
wasn’t rejection.

You don’t get
to show up later

with loneliness
dressed like love.

You don’t get
to knock
because whatever you chose
didn’t feel like home.

I was home.

You just kept leaving.

And eventually
I stopped keeping
the porch light on.

So miss me.

Remember me.

Wonder what would’ve happened
if you had stayed.

But don’t come looking
for the woman
who would have forgiven
anything
just to keep you.

She finally learned
that being chosen late

isn’t the same
as being chosen.