If You Never See

If you never see my value,

that’s a truth I accept.

I’ll keep shaping the quiet,

letting the old ache

settle into something honest.

The reflections I seek are my own—

a faint shimmer on glass,

the hush after a note,

the breath before the next phrase.

If holding me was never yours to do,

I release the question.

My life moves in its own direction,

steady without witnesses.

Love sharpened my listening.

Loss slowed my steps.

Peace—

peace taught me the rhythm

that feels like home in my chest.

So the past drifts—

evening light slipping off a hill.

No push, no pull.

Just space.

I’m here,

moving forward,

quiet and clear—

surrendering,

accepting what is real,

open to the light

that rises to meet mine.

I cared once—

if he’d ever realize what he lost.

But that question belonged to the woman I was

before the silence taught me my own name again.

Now I know this:

His limits were not my prophecy.

His fear was not my flaw.

And the day he finally understands

what my love actually was—

that moment will be his to live with,

not mine.

Because I’m already gone.

Already growing.

Already singing into a life

that fits me better than he ever did.

I see myself now.

Cleanly.

And that is the only recognition

I ever needed.