Along the way

No Score

I had put you away.
I was going to say you broke me.
This was the narrative, but not now.
These words are not coming out.
Six years have gone by and I can't relate to those feelings. They have been successfully erased.
I've gone beyond, and I'm genuinely fine.
I forgave you long ago, and you're welcome here today.

It's curious you're here.
It feels like opening a window and realising you'd forgotten what fresh air felt like.
We talk, and it moves so naturally that the years blur at the edges, like they were never quite solid to begin with.
It was me, yes, but I'm a different me now.
I can't relate to her anymore.
It's all good.

I don't even have expectations.
No secret wishlist tucked under my tongue.
It's just the present.
Uncomplicated, unlit by hope or fear.
I like that you're here, simple as that.

I'd even forgotten your voice.
But the moment you spoke, something familiar loosened in me - not nostalgia, not longing — just this quiet closeness, like a door I didn't know was stuck finally drifting open.
You apologised, and I'm glad you did, but the funny thing is I don't think I needed it.
I appreciate it but I don't need it now.

Whatever hurt there was feels like a story someone else told me a long time ago.
There's no debt to settle, no old score humming in the corners.
Just us, now, in this easy moment where everything feels surprisingly right.