Yesterday

A quiet ache between endings and beginnings.

Opening Note

Some departures freeze us mid-gesture; others leave warmth that lingers in the air long after the door has closed. Yesterday belongs to that space — where love softens into memory, and memory learns to breathe again.

-

I will not be the gown,
woven tight with threads of expectation,
nor the sheer veil
that dances in my nakedness,
hiding yet revealing the contours of my soul.

I am not the armour you wear,
heavy with the weight of yesterday,
nor am I the delicate satin
that whispers secrets in the night.

I cannot mould to your desires,
nor will I unravel in your arms.
I am neither the echo of laughter,
nor the silence that follows
when lovemaking has faded.

I am the warmth of a shared glance,
the heartbeat of a moment,
the soft glow of twilight
when the day sighs into night.

Do not idolize me,
for I am not a fantasy.
Do not dismiss me,
for I am not a figment.
Let me breathe as I am —
tender, flawed, alive.

A gentle breeze, not a tempest.
A quiet strength, not a crutch.
I cannot walk beside you,
not in front, not behind.

I am neither the dream you chase,
nor the nightmare you fear.
I am simply —
a whisper, a heartbeat, a memory.

My fate lies in tomorrow,
a new day, a new beginning.
A chance to love again,
but I will always fondly remember
yesterday.

Closing Reflection

Every cold departure carries a hidden tale — one that unfolds quietly in the spaces we don’t speak of. Yesterday is that echo: not bitter, not resigned, but aware that love, when it ends, still leaves light enough to walk by.