π»ππ
ππ…
π° ππππ ππππππ πππ πππππππππ
ππ ππππππ ππππππ.
I used to return to places
that closed their doors on me,
just so I could feel remembered.
I used to plead for a space
in someone else’s livesβto the point
that I made myself an intruder.
I used to dim my light
so others could shine,
even if it meantβ
I am losing myself in the dark.
I used to let others’ words
take root in my mind and heartβ
the doubt, the fear,
as if they owned my truth.
I used to run back,
again and again, and then again…
thinkingβone more and another one more try
would make me enough.
I used to believe…
I was indebted
to the people who broke me.
But no more.
ππ¨π ππ¨πππ².
ππ¨π ππ―ππ« ππ ππ’π§…
β
*image: brynden / unsplash