blooming
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I used to think healing meant forgetting. That one day the memories wouldn’t hurt. The scars wouldn’t ache. The past wouldn’t whisper my name. But maybe healing isn’t becoming someone new. Maybe it’s learning to love the person who survived. The one who stayed. The one who fought. The one who kept choosing tomorrow even…
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I have been broken open more times than I can count. By loss. By love. By goodbyes I never got to prepare for. I have carried storms inside a body that still learned how to hold sunshine. There were days I wondered if I was disappearing. But somehow, between the cracks, something kept reaching upwards.…
Between Bruises and Blooms 