You left me there —barren, exposed—

A lamb in the night, waiting for the blade,

A wilted thing reaching for the sun,

Not knowing light alone wouldn’t save me.

I wrapped myself in the fabric of your words,

Thin threads of deceit, woven with ease,

A safety net you spun for your next prize,

Leaving me to fall, to fray, to freeze.

But time has passed, and so have you.

The sun still shines, but now I drink deep,

Roots uncurled from barren ground,

No longer clinging, no longer weak.

And now you return, with hands outstretched,

But I stand tall, no longer pleading.

The nights are warm, my soul is fed —

I have grown, and you are no longer needed.