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.