It still hurts.
Your memory’s radioactive.
It’s no use thinking about
how much I lost
as the script of my life kept rolling.

You caught me as I fell,
I was searching for a way out,
and found you instead.
But reaching for you
only pulled me deeper down.

Looking back is hard.
Toxic dust I breathed in,
a chemical romance
that burned through my lungs,
your atmosphere seeping into everything.

Maybe fate turned kinder
the moment I left.
what I might have become
is folded quiet, neatly kept.

But it still stings.
Not the loss—the time I can’t reclaim.
You weren’t a lesson.
You were a delay.

So take the version of me
you once believed.
I won’t ask fate for mercy,
nor beg time to rewind.
I’m done with your ghosts
that never tried.