While I sit in the Jardin du Luxembourg for the last time,

I feel my heart being torn in two—

not from heartbreak,

but from the aching pull of love and longing.

How do I belong in two places at once?

Home is where the heart is, they say,

but my heart belongs here—

and with the one I left behind.

I sit beneath the trees,

my heart rooted in this quiet, generous soil.

The wind whispers, “Stay,”

but still, my heart aches across oceans

for the arms that feel like home.

Paris has given me a beautiful day—

a silent parting gift just for me.

A soft, golden goodbye.

I came here to grow—

and I did.

I came here to find my strength—

and I found more than I knew I had.

I am more proud of myself than I have ever been.

In these gardens, I found passion,

drive,

unabashed joy.

And with them,

a bittersweetness deeper than words.

This is self-discovery.

This is heartbreak in its purest, most tender form.

I know I’ll find joy again.

But I hope I never feel comfortable again.

I want to always be curious—

full of fire,

and the ache of becoming.

I will treasure this time, always.

But my heart—

it will never be whole again

until both halves

find each other here once more.