The Memoir Of Ms. Butterfly

I almost said it—
The words curled like smoke
behind my teeth,
soft as surrender,
sharp as truth.

I almost kept the photographs.
Each one a shrine
to the version of me
that loved you
more than she loved her reflection.

But I deleted them.
Not in rage,
not in haste—
But in the ceremony.

Each click is a quiet funeral
For the girl who waited
to be remembered
by someone who forgot
How to see her.

I thought I’d lose myself.
That without your shadow
I’d be blank,
a canvas scraped clean
by grief.

But I was wrong.

With every image erased,
I gained a new name,
a new breath,
a new skin.

I am not defined
by the moments we captured,
But by the ones I survived
without you.

And in letting go
of the one thing
that held me hostage—
your memory—
I became
the woman
who finally chose herself.

By: Ms. Butterfly Genesis