Our rings still sit on the fireplace like two ghosts that don’t know they’re dead yet. You were my addiction, whispering sweet lies as you broke me piece by piece. You said forever—but you were kissing someone else before I'd even unpacked all the boxes. Now I’m free, and all you’ve got left is a lighter, and the ashes of a man who meant every word.

I loved her in prose, tracing her body in words and capturing her soul in the spaces between lines.

You let go, not out of anger or regret, but to make space for hope - something lighter, something real.

I don’t know that anyone has ever whispered my name into the night like it was a prayer they needed.

Love isn’t always about who you hold onto. Sometimes it’s about finding the strength to hold onto yourself instead.

Every scar, every road, every broken rule - none of it mattered until it led me home to you.

Steady on my path, I trust the journey will lead me to where I’m meant to belong.

Embracing change, learning to let go, and opening up to life’s quiet joys and new beginnings.

Lost love leaves its mark but opens doors to new adventures, reminding us to embrace the journey.

Love changes, and so do we. Sometimes, the kindest act is knowing when to let go and carry only the lessons.