The Girl Who Saged Her Apartment After He Left
The Sage-Smoke Widow of Empty Rooms
I burned the old to smoke so the new could breathe.
I wore my grief like a second skin until I remembered fire. I lit the sage, I filled the corners, I burned every trace of his name. Now I move slow through this clean space, listening to the silence I made. It’s softer now. And stronger than you think.
What I'm Into: fresh air through open windows, dust motes in sunlight, the scent of cedar, empty walls waiting, stillness after flame
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