anyways back to me

the feeling of freedom after a toxic controlling relationship

The mattress no longer dips toward the center,
weighted down by a phantom mass.
The air in here is cool, and clear, and mine—
no longer thick with the holding of breath,
or the sharp, unpredictable static of your mood.

For months, this room was a negotiation.
I slept on the sliver of edge you left me,
apologizing for taking up space in my own skin,
curating my words like fine porcelain
just so nothing would shatter.

But today, I opened the windows wide.
I swept the dust of your heavy ghost
out into the hallway, out into the street.
I washed the sheets until they forgot your scent,
and watched the water run gray down the drain.

Look at this canvas.
Look at these four walls.
I am hanging the art you used to mock.
I am playing the music you called too loud.
I am stretching my limbs across the entire bed,
starfish-wild and completely unbothered.

It turns out, the door wasn’t locked from the outside.
I just had to remember my hand could turn the knob.

This is my sanctuary now, not a hiding place.
The lease is in my name.
The peace is in my chest.
I have finally reclaimed my room—
and God, it feels good to be home.