A year after, and I feel better.
Content, at peace, calm and joyful.
A year later, I look back,
All I see is the overcoming of pain.
Brutal pain, the kind of pain like your heart was ripped apart.
Devoured, grinded, and spat back out in tiny parts.
But a year after, the heart still beats.
Steady, strong, and healed.
A year later, I feel slowly awakening.
Rising through the fog of memories.
All I want is to trust and love others,
but I fear it’s too late: the betrayal cutted deep this time.
Still, a year later, I’m hopeful
that I’ll gain my desires back,
for I crave it all, primal and all.
A year after, the brain is done:
done with overthinking, reasoning, and mooding.
Now, all it wants is to be excited again.
The thrills, the surrender, the love, the trust:
That’s all I want, the year after.