Laying awake at night thinking of the what ifs and what could
Maybe, possibly it’s likely that this wasn’t a mistake
That she didn’t waste a year, a decade, a season of life, of potential
For uncertainties
Inconsistencies
For empty promises
False declarations wrapped in sweet nothingness
Becoming a person settling for less
Settling, compromising
She’s no longer sure
The lines have become so blurred that she doesn’t recognise herself.
This once strong, powerful being
To whom settling was foreign word
An unfamiliar act
On Becoming
