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Breakup Grit
You called it “mixed signals.”
I call it “practice for letting go.”
Last dance? Fine.
I’ll take the floor, the lights, the last word.
I’m not crying in the bathroom this time.
I’m dancing in the middle of it.
You taught me how to wait in maybe.
I’m teaching myself how to leave in definitely.
No more “wyd” at 1am.
No more reading into your “haha.”
No more shrinking to fit in your almost.
You want closure?
Watch me close the door myself.
Back straight. Chin up. Heart healing.
This isn’t sad.
This is power.
Last dance was yours.
Every dance after this is mine.
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Shakes Zerocool_354
K
--- Breakup Grit You called it “mixed signals.” I call it “practice for…
