Recovery

Nostalgia is seldom cradled within these arms. Torment by bittersweet memories of the past have ceased. Scars of where I had bled love for the undeserving one are scattered across my body like landmarks. Landmarks made beautiful from the love others have poured generously back into me. I have healed with only the ache ignited by laughter in my chest, a particular blissful ache I have missed.

These lungs no longer collapse on themselves to expel a howl for an overvalued presence that offers nothing but inadequate love and bargained affection.

I have fallen in love again, fallen in love with life. Fallen in love with the opportunities it is offering me in generous handfuls that I was previously too oblivious to appreciate. An antidote of patience and hope to the resentful poison that had once thrived inside of me. It is over, this self-battling war is done. I am free. – S. Alaa

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