t w e n t y - s i x

here's a toast to the ones that left us faded

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I'm twenty-six when I succeed on my own.

Just me.

Alone.

But she is a phoenix. I rise from her ashes as they re-form around me, molding into a crusty shadow of her image. But my lungs are clear. My legs have the strength to carry me again. I have stapled and taped and glued my broken mind back into something that, while not as strong as before, is enough.

Maybe I am enough.

She doesn't reach for me this time. She will, when she's ready, but for now...she keeps her distance.

I'm twenty-six when I don't need her anymore.