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She does not turn away —

she simply softens the gaze.

What once clung to the edges of her mind

has loosened, like petals falling

not in grief,

but in grace.

The past is not erased —

it has been folded

into the lines of her face,

the curves of her thought,

the hush between words.

She walks forward

not with certainty,

but with ease —

as if the sky taught her

how to be wide

and unafraid.