The Light Was Never Theirs To Take

The afternoon light is flat and heavy, the kind that makes the dust motes look like they are hanging still in time. You are lying in bed, scrolling through faces that used to be your whole world, wondering if the capacity for that specific love has died with the relationship.

It feels like the story ended, like the best part of you was left in someone else's pocket. But listen — you did not lose the light when you lost them.

You came from the light, the place where it generates itself, and that origin cannot be edited by a breakup. The love you felt was not theirs to take; it was yours to give, flowing through you from a source that never runs dry.

You are looking at old photos for proof that you were once alive, but the proof is not in the past. It is in the ache you feel right now, which is just the light reminding you that you are still capable of burning.

Close the screen. The sun is still up, and so are you.