I woke up with a quiet heart, The first time, it didn’t feel like breaking. Sunlight on the window glass, A softness I’d forgotten I was making. The ghosts still whisper in my ear, But they don’t own the room anymore. I’m learning how to stand again, Feet steady on a tired floor. Every bruise turns into something light, If you hold it long enough through the night. There’s a blue horizon calling me, Past the storms I thought would swallow me. I’m finally seeing who I’m meant to be— Not the girl who ran, But the woman who can breathe. And the wind feels new again… On this blue horizon. I trace the scars across my skin, They’re roads that led me back to living. All the versions of me I lost, I’m slowly learning to forgive them. The past still flickers in my chest, Old wounds humming low like distant thunder. But I don’t break the way I did— I hold myself with something gentler. Every sorrow softens in its time, And every ending redraws its line. There’s a blue horizon calling me, Past the storms I thought would swallow me. I’m finally seeing who I’m meant to be— Not the girl who ran, But the woman who can breathe. And the wind feels new again… On this blue horizon. Maybe healing isn’t fireworks— Maybe it’s a steady kind of grace. Maybe it’s letting go of every love That tried to leave its shadow on your face. Maybe I never needed saving— Just a moment to stand still. To tell the world I’m here, I’m trying, And I always will. There’s a blue horizon calling me, A softer future I can finally see. I’m walking toward it carefully— Not who I was, But who I’m meant to be. (The woman who stayed) And the sky feels wide again… On this blue horizon.
