Chase Lock

soft as dawn before the birds begin.

The old me lingers like smoke in the air,

a ghost of heavy nights I used to wear.

But somewhere between the breaking and bloom,

flowers pushed through the cracks in the ruin.

I learned endings are not graves at all—

sometimes they are doors waiting to be called open.

Now I walk into mornings I’ve never seen,

where the sky feels wider, washed clean.

The stars no longer look so far away;

they whisper, you survived another day.

This new world is not perfect—

it still rains, still aches, still bends.

But the light reaches me differently here,

like life itself wants to make amends.

I am learning how to begin again:

to touch joy without fearing loss,

to plant gardens in abandoned places,

to wear my scars like silver gloss.

And maybe rebirth is not becoming someone new,

but finally meeting the self

that was buried beneath survival.

So here I stand—

heart open like a window after winter,

watching the horizon unfold

into a world that does not know my past,

only my willingness

How easy it was for you to walk away

after saying you loved me.

I asked for respect, for loyalty—

and still, you chose

to disrespect me again and again.

I kept trying,

waiting for you to show me

that I was more than just a body to you.

But every conversation

circled back to the same place—

and it was never my heart.

You said you wanted a life with me,

but never cared to know me.

I learned your favorite things,

memorized the details you never noticed I kept—

yet you never once asked

what I liked.

Even in something as small as a game,

you chose for me.

Maybe I wanted romance there—

because I never felt it here.

Maybe I wanted effort.

But I guess

that was too much to ask.

For once,

I tried to take things slow—

thinking maybe

that’s how something real could last.

But the joke was on me.

Because apparently,

love doesn’t last—

at least, not the kind

you gave me.

What I Deserve

It wasn’t easy for me to walk away—

even after everything.

Because I meant it

when I said I loved you.

But love shouldn’t feel like

begging to be respected,

like asking over and over

just to be chosen right.

I gave you patience,

softness,

the kind of care

that learns someone’s favorite things

just to see them smile.

And somewhere in that,

I forgot to ask

why you never learned me.

I am more than a moment,

more than a body,

more than something to return to

only when it’s convenient.

I wanted slow love—

the kind that grows roots,

the kind that lingers

in the quiet moments.

And I still believe in that.

Just not with someone

who made me feel like

I had to earn it.

So I’m taking myself back now—

my time,

my energy,

my softness.

I’m choosing me

the way I kept choosing you.

And maybe love doesn’t last

when it’s one-sided—

but I am learning

that I do.

And I will not settle

for anything

that makes me forget