self-worth
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Becoming means naming who she is now without softening it, and deciding which old versions no longer get to come along.
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A love accepted in a smaller shape just to keep one particular person close leaves worth and regret deliberately unresolved.
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Some songs don’t stop belonging to you just because someone changes the dedication. This poem isn’t about ownership—it’s about memory, and how love can echo long after the music changes.
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Other people will keep inventing versions of her; the page remains where she refuses to shrink herself to fit any of them.
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A reflection on surviving loss, love, and every fracture that tried to make her disappear—and the stubborn part of her that kept reaching toward the light.
Between Bruises & Blooms 