Reconnection Fee
Some doors remember my name—others remember the weight of my leaving.
I’ve learned not every bridge
needs rebuilding just because the river
still whispers our story.
Some connections were lessons
wearing the mask of love,
hands that once held me
but never held my becoming.
Time collected interest
on every silence,
every apology that arrived late
like rain after the harvest.
Now I stand different—scarred like a road map,
but walking forward.
If you return, know this:
My peace is expensive now.
My spirit keeps receipts.
And every door I reopen comes with a reconnection fee:
paid in truth, paid in growth,
paid in the respect you couldn’t afford before.
Because some souls are not meant to circle back—
they are meant to move on and make the distance
their freedom.
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5 comments
Naomie Thomas
5
Reconnection Fee
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