Not a Hollow Presence

You left me in silence,

weeks stretched thin with nothing but echoes,

and you thought you could waltz back in..

like absence wasn’t a weapon,

like time didn’t carve scars deeper than your words.

No.

The door isn’t open.

It slammed shut the moment you made me carry

your silence like a coffin on my back.

That was your fault, not mine.

You handed me distance,

and I learned how to build bridges without you.

Now I soar.

Now I grind bone into iron,

paint into fire,

silence into storms you will never match.

I outgrow you with every breath,

surpass you in every shadow.

While you sat in absence,

I sharpened myself into something

too fierce for your weak returns.

If you want to stand in my life again,

you will crawl with change in your hands,

not excuses.

You will bring growth,

not ghosts.

You will bleed proof of your effort,

not hollow apologies.

And if I am not the one you want to fight for,

if you cannot rise to meet me...

then stay gone.

Because I am done folding myself small

to make room for someone

who disappears when it matters most.

This time,

the goodbye will not tremble.

This time,

I cut clean.

And I do not look back.