Ashes Know My Name
I was raised where love was rare,
where empty rooms knew every prayer;
so I saved my heart, I saved it whole,
for someone who would make me feel home.
I gave them warmth,
they gave me flame.
I gave them love,
they gave me blame.
I said no,
they called me cold.
I kept my boundaries,
they wanted control.
And I wondered in the quiet night—
Was I too much,
or were they never right?
Still, I returned,
still I believed,
that somewhere in this world
was someone I could safely need.
But loneliness is a wicked guide—
it makes you trust
what you should leave aside.
So I loved again,
with nothing concealed,
gave every wound
I had never healed.
He took my trust,
he took my light,
turned something tender
into a fight.
And I stayed—
God, I stayed—
thinking love could resurrect
what cruelty had made.
Until one night,
through all the pain,
I heard my own voice
calling my name.
And something broke—
but not my soul.
The girl who begged for love
finally made herself whole.
Let them tell their tales,
let them twist what I became;
let them paint themselves innocent
and baptize me with blame.
They'll never know
the wars I concealed,
the rage I buried,
the wounds I sealed.
I could have burned
every bridge they crossed.
Instead, I chose peace
over counting the cost.
Not because they deserved
a merciful end—
but because I refused
to become them.
So if you ask me
where love left me—
beneath the ashes,
where the old me ceased to be.
I did not die.
I transformed.
I did not break.
I was reborn.
And now I know
what I failed to see:
The greatest love story
was never them and me.
It was the moment
I finally chose—
me.
