Calosha Gomes

I said I’ll write again when I know I am okay to face it. More, that I’ll put myself out there when I feel safer.

My safety was stolen by the one who I was loyal to. I magnify every word and see how the cracks existed long before my last drop in the bucket, which broke all illusions of beauty and trust.

Now, I am honest about how not good this was for me. How I have outgrown this state of one point six months. This honesty to myself was brutal. How I poured myself into their cracks and let some slide.

My truth is not their truth; their truth is to have me let every crack slide. I don’t owe them that.

I don’t owe anyone that. Let alone figures that don’t care about anyone, and how their turnover is without any care. How can I care when the humans on the other side could care less?

My bucket has lost all space. I smile as I walk away from memories, from the lost sense of need and want, to be my same best self away from those who don’t deserve me, to someplace else.