How I Move Forward

I'm a writer now, not that you cared.

My violins are collecting dust, like you predicted. You always loved being right.

It's strange not hearing from you, yet too familiar from when we were still in a place that allowed a conversation,

you never wanted me to speak to you.

You got your wish and somehow, I am the one in wrong.

I am the one who wronged you?

My life without you has different hues, all of which are brighter and less lonely.

While you live your life in your version of the truth, I know I was always enough,

just not for you.

I accept the terms of termination and wish you the remaining days that you deserve.

I take the good and bad for what they were,

knowing that I came out of something that made me better than before.

Just wish it weren't as brutal of a lesson learnt.