Now, I am left with myself.
Not in the way I once hoped,
But in a way that feels cold, detached.
I whisper words of self love,
Yet they feel hollow, like rehearsed lines in a play
Where no one is watching.

I try to believe that I am whole,
That I am enough
But the shadows of my past selves linger,
The ones I sacrificed for love
That was never meant to last.
Now, love is not something ...

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Always a romantic, now left hollow.
When I was younger, I dreamed of love that would never fade
A love untouched by time, by pain, by failure.
No one warned me that love is brittle,
That it crumbles under the weight of expectations,
That the ones you give your heart to
Can just as easily walk away.

I was never told that love would demand pieces of me,
That I would lose myself trying to b...

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