Cut The Rope( I Did)

‎I didn’t scream.
‎I didn’t beg the sky to intervene.
‎I stood still,
‎hands steady,
‎and named what I had seen.
‎
‎I was pulling all the weight,
‎feeding fires that wouldn’t stay,
‎calling silence loyalty,
‎teaching absence how to stay.
‎
‎They said, “be patient, love waits,”
‎so I waited till I thinned,
‎till my voice became an echo
‎in rooms I carried in.
‎
‎I tied myself to maybes,
‎to someday, soon, and when,
‎confusing crumbs for mercy,
‎calling loss a friend.
‎
‎But hear this
‎I am done negotiating peace
‎with people who only show up
‎when it’s easy to leave.
‎So I cut the rope.
‎
‎Not in anger, not in haste.
‎I cut the rope
‎because staying cost me more
‎than what I’d break.
‎
‎I cut the rope
‎from habits dressed as hope,
‎from hands that held convenience
‎but never held me close.
‎
‎If I fall, I fall forward,
‎not dangling for a sign,
‎not suspended in the waiting room
‎of someone else’s time.
‎
‎This year, I sever quietly.
‎No announcements. No show.
‎What takes more than it gives
‎has already got to go.
‎
‎I choose the ground beneath my feet
‎over knots that choke my breath.
‎I choose myself
‎not halfway love,
‎not borrowed depth.
‎
‎I cut the rope.
‎And if that makes me free,
‎then let the fall be mine alone,
‎at least it’s honest gravity.

‎