What Was Never Learned
that people are not meant to stay,
that closeness does not guarantee permanence,
that hands held today
may be empty tomorrow.
I believed friendships had roots,
not expiry dates.
I believed laughter meant loyalty,
and presence meant commitment.
I never learned
that parents, too, are borrowed,
that even love wrapped in prayers
can be taken by time,
leaving rooms full
and hearts hollow.
Those who once called me their favorite
where did they go?
Their words still exist,
but only as memories
that do not answer back.
The irony is heavy
if years ago everything had been placed on the table,
if silence had been replaced with truth,
I would have stood there
still choosing,
still staying.
But the past does not stay quiet.
It waits in the heart,
collecting moments,
waiting to be felt all at once.
Some who say they stand with me
still carry old conversations
where my name was not protected.
They walk beside me in public,
but leave me alone
when growth begins.
This is the sharpest pain
not being left,
but being left while moving forward.
They stay for comfort,
not for becoming.
They celebrate the beginning,
but disappear at the climb.
And I keep walking,
strong enough to continue,
soft enough to feel everything.
I am not grieving people.
I am grieving assumptions.
The belief that presence meant permanence.
The belief that love always stays.
Now I know
some lessons arrive late,
some truths arrive broken,
and some clarity arrives
only after loss.
And even then,
I keep going.
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