My hope. : poem by me.

Why did you teach me the taste of pain, of silence too heavy to carry? Your words were knives— sharp and bitter, and you carved your hate into the softest parts of me. I learned how to breathe without feeling, how to hide my heart before it could break.

Now I stand, the cold streets pressing into my bones, and I feel the weight of your absence and your presence, both heavy, both too much. I don't hear your voice anymore, but I hear it in my head, echoing through the gaps where love should have lived.

But tonight— tonight the wind brushes my skin like a soft promise. The butterfly cold lifts my soul, a whisper of freedom that isn’t mine yet, but is closer than I ever thought possible. I taste it in the air, sweet but fleeting, just beyond my reach. I inhale it, hold it close, and let it fill the empty spaces you left behind.

I remember what you taught me, all the broken lessons— how to survive in the dark, how to numb myself until I forgot I was alive. But now, in this cold, I’ve learned something new. I’ve learned to burn like the fire I never had, to want the warmth that never came from you.

And as I walk, my footsteps echo with something stronger than fear, something I couldn’t name before, but now it has a shape. Hope. A small, fragile thing, but it’s mine. It’s more than I ever expected. More than the hate that tried to consume me.

I taste freedom in this moment, just a whisper, but it's enough to keep me moving. It's enough to remind me that I don’t have to be who you made me. And I won’t.