My World of One

My World of One

The loneliness you left me became my home.

I live in my own world now— a world where no one can touch me, no one can bruise me, no one can make me bleed.

It’s just me here. Just me talking to myself, entertaining myself in my head.

Sometimes my heart whispers,  Maybe we should go back out there.

But then I look at her wounds. I look at mine.

And my brain steps in— firm, familiar:  No. We aren’t ready. Remember what happened last time.

So I take a breath. I turn to my heart and say,  I’m sorry. But he’s right.

We need to let these wounds heal into scars.

And even then— those scars will still need time to stop hurting.

I’m sorry, heart. But not yet.