I’m lost between holding on and letting go.
Not all wounds are visible.
The pain is real, but so is the hope.
I’m not broken, just bent.
I miss the person I used to be.
Sometimes, the heart sees what is invisible to the eye.
Crying is how my heart speaks when my lips can’t explain.
I’m learning to live with the pain.
My soul is tired, but my heart still beats.
Sometimes, love hurts more than hate.
