What’s left

I don’t keep fighting because I hate what’s in front of me.

I do it because I love the people behind me.

The ones who tell me to slow down.

The ones who remind me that I’m enough, when I don’t believe it.

The ones who would break if I disappeared.

Sometimes it feels like if I’m not moving, I’m turning around to say goodbye.

My heart doesn’t let me.

Even when my mind begs me to.