We Were Never Meant to Bloom Forever

You won’t find the same person twice,

not even in the same person.

I learned that

the hard way.

Standing in front of you,

recognizing everything

except who you were to me.

We started as a seed.

Buried in something small,

something quiet,

something we didn’t question.

We planted each other

in the version of ourselves

that only existed back then.

And we grew.

Slowly at first,

then all at once.

Reaching,

stretching,

turning toward the same light

like sunflowers convinced

the sun would never leave.

But it did.

Or maybe…

we just stopped facing it together.

Somewhere along the way,

we stopped growing.

Not suddenly,

just enough

to notice something felt different

but not enough

to walk away.

So I stayed.

Watering something

that wasn’t blooming anymore,

hoping if I gave it enough

it would come back to life.

But you weren’t the same.

And neither was I.

You lived days without me.

I learned how to live without you.

We changed,

quietly, separately,

in ways we didn’t get to witness.

And I kept searching for the version of you

that only existed

when we were still becoming.

They say women grieve first.

We feel the ending

while it’s still happening,

in the pauses,

in the distance,

in the way love starts to feel

like something we have to hold together alone.

So I mourned you

while you were still mine.

And by the time you felt it,

I had already begun to heal.

Because I kept growing.

Even when it meant

outgrowing you.

And I won’t shrink myself

back into who I was

just to make us fit again.

I won’t turn away from the sun

just because you stopped reaching for it.

You didn’t lose me.

You lost the version of me

that loved you

before I learned how to let go.

And I lost you too,

not who you are now,

but who you were

when we were still blooming.

That’s the truth:

Some flowers

aren’t meant to last forever.

Some are meant to grow,

to open,

to feel everything

all at once,

and then fade

when their season is over.

We were never meant to bloom forever.

Just long enough

to change each other.

And then

let go.