365 At one hundred days I stood half-still, A shaking heart, a stubborn will, Still counting breaths, still fighting sleep, Still learning how the scars run deep. A hundred days felt carved from stone, Each morning faced the world alone, The past still barked behind my eyes, The future dressed in thin disguise. I walked with ghosts, I slept with doubt, I whispered prayers I’d breathe back out, Each day a war I had to win Just to keep the dark from settling in. --- At two hundred days I learned to stay, Not just to breathe, but feel the day, The ache still knocked, the past still called, But it no longer lined my walls. Two hundred days — I carried truth, Not as a wound, but living proof, That pain can live and not control, That cracks let light rebuild the soul. I saw my dark had shades of light, My weakness tutored me in fight, The nights grew quieter inside my head, The war no longer warmed my bed. --- Now three-six-five — a year made real, A year of choosing how to feel, A year of standing when I’d fall, A year of learning this is all. Not just survival — more than air, But learning how to stay right here, To love the man I used to flee, To make a home inside of me. The scars still speak, but softer now, They no longer carve, they only allow Me space to breathe, to remember who I was beneath what I went through. I’m not repaired, I’m not brand new, But I am honest, I am true, I am not perfect — I am whole In ways I never could control. So here I stand — and you stand near, Through every doubt, through every fear, Ella, you stayed when I felt small, When I would break, you wouldn’t fall. You saw the good I’d buried deep, Guarded my soul while I would sleep, You held the parts I couldn’t face