Detachment

You whispered, "Stay," but silence roared,

And all I felt was the closing door.

I gave you chances, countless tries,

But kindness faded behind your lies.

I bent, I begged, I wore thin skin,

Hoping love would let me in.

But love, when real, does not demand—

It doesn't slip through grasping hands.

So I unhooked my aching soul,

From needing you to make me whole.

No more pleading eyes or restless nights—

Detachment gave me back my light.

I learned that peace is not a prize

You win by shrinking to fit their size.

It's found in walking calmly free,

Choosing dignity over plea.