Come… let white death bloom in my mouth, powdered absolution, the kind that erases fingerprints and leaves only truth. Come… I gave you a cathedral and you brought a knife, called it honesty, left it between my ribs and walked away lighter. You couldn’t love me.. I forgive that. Some bodies can’t hold oceans without drowning. Come… my love was famine and feast, too vast for your hands, too alive to stay quiet. What I poured into you grew me taller, sharper, untouchable. Come… I regret nothing. Not the blood, not the faith, not the way I burned bright so you could see yourself leaving. I am not wounded.. I am remade. This was my lesson, my crown, my cleanest becoming. I don’t blame you. The universe stood behind me the whole time, steady as breath. This is my last sin: loving until it burned clean, then turning my back on the ashes.. because loss looks different when it isn’t mine… An1, 2025