She No Longer Waits at the Door

there was a door
she once kept half-open
not wide enough to call it welcome
not closed enough to call it goodbye

she learned the rhythm of footsteps
that came without warning
left without explanation
and still
she listened for them

she told herself
that silence had reasons
that distance had meaning
that someday
someone would choose her fully

so she stayed soft
she stayed kind
she stayed

even when the nights grew longer
than the moments they shared
even when hope began to feel
like water slipping through her hands

until tonight
her chest ached loud enough
to break the quiet she had been living in

and in that breaking
she heard something clearer than longing:
HERSELF

not the part that waits
but the part that knows

that she is not a place
someone visits when the world feels light

that she is not a pause
between someone else’s life

so gently
without anger, without noise
she closed the door

not because she stopped caring
but because she started choosing

now the air feels different
still a bit unfamiliar
but finally hers

and if the footsteps ever return
they will find no waiting
they will find only a woman
who has already walked away
from the door she once called love

HER, 30/3