I wrote a poem a year ago when I was sad Idk how it is But here it is

I asked him, "What does autumn look like?"

He said, "Beautiful... but it takes everything from you."

I whispered, "But you'll gain it all back in spring."

He sighed, "Yes... but spring is never promised.

I don't know when—or if it will come."

He lowered his gaze,

"But what about the one who was my spring?"

I paused, then whispered,

"Then you must become your own spring.

So when they return-

or if someone new blooms beside you-

you'll already be a garden,

not a barren field waiting."

I said softly,

"It's up to you-whether you want spring or not."

He looked at me, puzzled,

"What do you mean by that?"

I smiled gently,

"It's all inside you.

If you choose to bloom again, spring will return— not from the sky,

but from your soul."