Thank You for Leaving
The more I give you, the emptier I feel. I think I’ll be okay again when I ask you to leave. Dear reader, I wrote this book for the ones who feel everything too deeply. The rare souls who still listen to their hearts and believe in love. The ones who don’t hurt others just because they’re in pain. The ones who wear their hearts on their sleeves and carry kindness within. The ones who overthink, over-invest in people and over-love, always. This book is an ocean full of feelings, so if at...
If you’ve ever had someone leave your life and found yourself strangely grateful for it, then Thank You for Leaving is going to hit differently. This poetry collection, published in February 2025 by Ebury Press, arrived at a moment when readers were hungry for something honest about loss—not the devastated, angry kind necessarily, but the complex, transformative kind that actually teaches you something about yourself.
The beauty of this 200-page collection lies in how it reframes departure entirely. Rather than treating absence as pure tragedy, the poet explores the quiet space someone leaves behind—and discovers that space can be generative. It can be where healing begins. That’s a radical shift in how we typically talk about heartbreak, and it’s part of why this book resonated so strongly when it hit shelves.
This book isn’t just about heartbreak—it’s about the quiet space someone leaves behind.
What makes this collection stand out:
- The emotional authenticity that feels almost uncomfortably raw
- A focus on self-discovery through loss rather than victim narratives
- Accessibility without sacrificing depth—these poems speak to how it feels to be human, to feel intensely, to wear your heart on your sleeve
- The balance between pain and acceptance, between mourning and gratitude
- A recognition that sometimes the people who leave us are our greatest teachers
The poet moves through these 200 pages with remarkable nuance, never letting us settle into easy sentimentality. There’s anger here, yes, but also humor. There’s sorrow, but also strange moments of lightness. The collection captures something we don’t always have language for: the bittersweet gratitude that emerges after real heartbreak, once enough time has passed and you can see how the experience changed you for the better.
The thematic journey unfolds something like this:
- Confronting the initial pain of absence
- Questioning what the relationship meant and whether you were wrong to care so deeply
- Recognizing your own capacity to survive and even flourish alone
- Understanding what the other person taught you, despite everything
- Arriving at genuine—not forced—gratitude for the lessons embedded in loss
What’s particularly striking is how the poet speaks directly to people who feel things deeply. There’s a tenderness here toward sensitivity, toward emotional vulnerability. In a cultural moment that often treats big feelings as something to move past quickly, this collection validates the experience of those who can’t just flip a switch and stop caring. Instead, it suggests that caring intensely is actually a superpower—and that learning to direct that capacity inward, toward your own healing, is where the real transformation happens.
“Thank you for the heartbreaks that taught me the art of healing, for the moments of solitude that made me cherish my own company.” This isn’t just poetic language—it’s a philosophy that seems to have genuinely moved readers.
The critical reception has been notably warm, with readers finding themselves returning to specific poems again and again. Social media lit up with people sharing how this collection finally gave voice to feelings they’d been struggling to articulate. There’s something powerful about reading your own internal experience reflected back to you by a stranger’s words—it’s both isolating and deeply connecting all at once.
Why this book matters in the broader literary landscape:
The poetry collection market has been experiencing a renaissance, but many contemporary collections stick to similar emotional beats. Thank You for Leaving distinguishes itself through its refusal to wallow. The poet isn’t interested in endless grieving—they’re interested in what comes after, in the integration of loss into identity. That’s psychologically sophisticated poetry, even when it reads simply and accessibly.
There’s also something generational about this work. This is the poetry of people who’ve grown up with social media, with oversharing and then withdrawing, with the strange intimacy and distance of modern relationships. The emotional literacy required to thank someone for leaving—to recognize both the pain they caused and the growth they enabled—feels very much of this moment.
Since its February 2025 publication, the book has found particular resonance among younger readers and those navigating the specific challenges of contemporary relationships. It’s become something people give to friends going through breakups, not as a way to “fix” them, but as a way of saying: I see you. Your feelings are valid. There’s something beautiful on the other side of this.
The real achievement here is sustainable emotional wisdom. These poems will matter to you differently at different points in your life. Right now, in the immediate aftermath of loss, they might feel like permission to grieve. A year from now, you’ll return to them and find completely different meanings. That kind of staying power—that ability to deepen and reveal new facets as your relationship to the experience changes—is what separates memorable poetry from forgettable sentiment.
If you’re someone who’s ever loved hard and lost, someone who’s had to learn the difficult art of being okay with saying goodbye, then this collection is absolutely worth your time. It’s short enough to read in an afternoon but rich enough to live with for much longer.




