One story at a time

I was never a villain. I was the mirror you couldn't stand to look into - so you shattered me instead -  not because I was cruel,  but because I reflected what you tried to bury. I was never out to harm,  only to heal what I could,  and walk away from what I couldn't. You saw defiance. I saw dignity. You called me cold. I was just tired of burning for people, who never brought warmth in return. So call me what you will. Twist the tale to suit your comfort. But deep down, you know -  I was never the enemy. Just the echo of everything, you didn't want to face.

When one door closes,  sometimes it slams. Leaves a bruise i wasn't ready for. Leaves me staring at my own hands,  wondering what i was holding - and why it wasn't enough to stay. But endings are sly,  they rarely show their second half. Because when one goes -  another comes. A softer voice. A moment that reminds me that,  I am still capable of laughing,  without flinching. When love leaves -  let it. When the trail ends - rest. Because when one goes,  another always comes. If only i stay open,  long enough,  to let it in. You came,  We lived in the almost -  a space too warm to be strangers, too cold to be love. But i stayed there. Whatever this is,  it feels like moonlight in motion - quiet,  golden,  unspoken. There are no titles here,  no timelines,  no answers. Just they way your eyes find mine -  in a crowded room,  and everything else fades. We meet in moments -  stolen,  sac...

They don't tell you that coming back, hurts more than the blisters ever did.  That silence hits different when it's not wrapped in muds and stars. I finished the trail,  and everyone congratulates -  But no one hears the echo in my chest,  where the wind used to live. I try to plug back in -  to friends, to dinner plans, to the 9-to-5 grind,  but nothing quite fits. My body is here, but my soul is still somewhere between mile marker and that ridge,  where i first realized i was alive. They asked, "How was it, was it fun?" I smile and nod,  but how do i speak of sky and mountains? Of rain that cleanses more than skin? Of finding strength so deep within? I miss the dirt under my nails. The way my skin smelled like the sky. The way my thoughts got quite -  not because they disappeared,  but because nature listened without needing to reply. I left the trail with dirt on my skin,  and your name still stuck between my lungs. A different...