🖋 What the Fire Left Me

I used to believe healing meant forgetting.

That the only way forward was to erase the wreckage and bleach the ashes clean.

But some burns don’t fade.

They glow.

There’s a name I no longer say aloud,

a version of myself I no longer wear,

a story I buried that still blooms through cracks.

And still—

I am softer now.

Not because I broke,

but because I burned.

“I forgave the flame for changing me.”

That's the line.

The one I’d carve into ribs or wrist or heart.

Not as a warning,

but a memory.

Of who I was,

and who I chose to become after.

🖋 Tattoo Line: “I forgave the flame for changing me.”