He said he wants to meet me again.

I’m open… yes.

To meet me again is to meet me no longer living where you remember me.

I have the same eyes,

but I see differently now—

the world, him,

and even myself somehow.

When he looks at me,

he won’t recognize who I am.

Not because I’m lost—

but because I’ve grown past who I was then.

I stand stronger,

soft but sure.

Loving, kind,

confident—secure.

Once I searched for meaning

in a glance,

in a touch,

in his stance.

Now his gaze won’t move me,

won’t pull me apart.

I don’t hunger for approval,

or borrow worth from a heart.

I can meet him without labels,

without a role to play,

no expectations waiting—

just presence in the day.

No need to define it,

or decide what it must be.

We’re human, we’re kind,

we’re learning—he and me.

We’re all one in this moment,

made of breath and of love.

Nothing owed.

Nothing proven.

Nothing pushed from above.

I knew it even then,

when I stayed,

he was honest—

still learning, still afraid.

I’m content in my presence,

rooted in self-love’s ground.

I need no one to complete me,

but I’m open to what’s found.

Everything unfolds with reason,

the dots always align.

That love was a lesson—

a moment in time.

I planted the seeds,

watered the pain.

Now I stand in a garden

of growth and gain.

I am abundant,

intentional, free.

I built this space—

between me and me.

My dreams aren’t wishes,

they’re plans in motion.

This isn’t the end—

it’s the start of devotion.

Never finished.

Never small.

I expand.

I expand.

I expand—

that’s all.

Always,

CM