echoes of warmth
and if i can’t feel the warmth of the past today, what’s the point of holding on, letting yesterday shape my story? am i forgetting, am i forgiving, or just missing the way it once felt? i am only human— i feel, i cry, waiting to rebuild my own self-respect, brick by quiet brick. i wish i were stronger, wiser to the promises my mind makes, learning that healing comes from moving forward, not chasing sparks that no longer exist.