She left.
And the light didn’t argue.
I told myself,
Hold on.
Someone will come
and make the silence easier to breathe.
She did.
And for a second—
I forgot how heavy my chest could get.
But suns don’t ask permission
before they set.
They just go.
And night?
Night always remembers the way back.
Still
I stood in the warmth long enough
to remember who I am
when I’m not hurting.
Maybe she wasn’t the lesson.
Maybe she was the reminder.
That love exists.
That laughter still fits my mouth.
That happiness knows my name.
I wanted her to stay.
To be the reason.
To be the forever.
She was the moment.
Now I’m standing where I started—
same ground,
different spine.
I don’t know
if I’m broken
or grateful.
I just know this—
the sun came up once.
That means
it can come up again.