It hits me now
not like heartbreak,
not like loss

like clarity
so resonant
it almost echoes.

Nothing was hidden.

Exactly
what they were.

Available
in pieces.

Present
in moments.

Gone
when it mattered.

And I see it now
without needing to make it wrong.

No anger.
No blame.
No story to fix.

Just truth
landing clean.

I am a juggler.

Hands full
of beautiful things

connection,
chemistry,
attention,
imagery-

tossing them into the air,
catching one,
feeling it,
releasing it
just in time
to grab the next.

And for a while,
it felt like being alive

Like magic.
Like movement.
Like something was always
about to land.

But there’s a moment
quiet, almost still

where you realize
you’re not holding anything.

Just managing the rhythm
of things that don’t stay.

And I don’t want that anymore.

I don’t want to touch something
just long enough
to feel it
before it disappears.

I don’t want connection
that lives in motion
but never in my hands.

I want to hold.

To keep.

To rest
in something that doesn’t
require me
to keep it in the air.

So here I stop.

Let them fall
where they fall.

Not because they didn’t matter—

but because
I finally do.

And what’s meant to stay
won’t need me
to juggle it.

I get to choose what to hold, juggle or release.

what meets me here, gets to stay.