life is better remembered than lived
You don’t miss life.
You miss
the way your mind edited it.
The silence after the scream.
The softness after the storm.
The beauty
you only saw
when it was too far to touch.
What felt like drowning
now looks like birth.
What broke you then
built your name
in the bones of your memory.
You thought you hated the moment.
You didn’t.
You hated
that it asked you
to be fully here.
You ran from now
into the arms
of what already hurt you –
because at least
you knew the script.
But memory lies
with poetry in its mouth.
It leaves out the mess.
It trims the scream.
It polishes the blade
that carved your becoming.
Truth?
You weren’t meant to enjoy it.
You were meant to endure it
so you could remember it
as sacred.
This is why
life tastes sweeter
after it’s gone.
Because the soul doesn’t crave pleasure.
It craves perspective.
And the only time you feel peace
is when you stop demanding
it be present.
You’re not broken
for not loving every second.
You’re awake
for seeing the meaning in the aftermath.
Some lives are lived once.
The real ones
are remembered twice.
