Ivy

Every day I lament the shape your heart turned into. The way smooth edges decayed into jagged shards, and I could do nothing save for slashing open my naivety on the coarse exterior.

Every moment of my supposedly disposable existence brings back memories of you and your one-bullet gun. How you shot me just to escape the temptation of pressing the barrel to your own head. How you watched me bleed red to avoid seeing black.

Every word is an attempt to show the world just how many pieces you broke me into - just how little you cared when you left them scattered.

I am all ice walls and survival trophies, trying to evict you in the way you exorcised me, but I could never manage such callousness.

This is my lantern floating heavenward, my message disintegrating in a bottle. This is me, realising moving on is still worth celebrating over a year later.

This is the discovery that letting go means more when you have fought for it with every breath.