Mending
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Grief does not always leave; sometimes it grows roots beneath the ribs until healing means learning how to bloom around it.
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Changing does not betray the woman she was; it simply means some survival versions no longer need permanent rooms inside her.
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Healing means keeping the truth about mistakes and scars without letting either become the whole story.
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She spent too long putting herself on trial for someone else’s silence before realizing the crime was never being too much.
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Healing did not make her untouched; it taught roots to grow through wreckage and flowers to feed on what once tried to bury her.
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The same door remains, but the woman behind it no longer mistakes hunger for love or scraps for a meal.
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She was willing to stay through fear and mess, but love could not survive being the only person still reaching.
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One morning she stopped checking for the name that never appeared, and the phone finally became an object instead of a graveyard.
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Missing her later does not erase the silence that taught her what absence weighs when love refuses to show up.
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The goodbye arrived so slowly she mistook it for distance, until silence had already taught her how to live without them.
Between Bruises & Blooms 