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Enter Poem or Quote (Required)Required You came by maybe for the last time, to my room, to drop my scarf and the pen I’d once placed in your palm. When you left, I held that scarf tight, hoping it carried some trace of you. I never knew your scent, but for a moment my whole body trembled with the wish that I did. I hoped you would wait a little longer. I hoped you would tell me about your day the way you once did when everything was simpler and neither of us knew it. Sometimes I wonder if you ever look back on the quiet days we shared and see the empty space I carved without meaning to. I wonder if you regret anything. I hope you don’t. I hope you remember more than the silence I wrapped myself in when I didn’t know how to answer your lies or how to speak when I needed to. Maybe someday you will walk past me and I will walk past you, nothing between us but the soft ache of silence. Maybe. Your small smile still stirs that familiar churn beneath my ribs. Maybe I am the problem, but I will try not to hate myself for the ending of a friendship I fought to understand. You had every right to act how you have, And I’ve only now realized how little we truly knew each other despite all those hours we claimed we did. Still, I imagine your arms, the way I would sink into them and cry until my chest emptied out. Maybe some far-off August, some impossible January, I would hold you like I’d never let go again. Sometimes I ask myself what I’ve gained by letting myself lose you. Maybe time will open its quiet hands and show me, eventually. For I have cried, and I have hoped, and I have wished, and I have questioned every reason I thought was enough. Yet I still care. Maybe you were only my emotions wearing a familiar face, but I still want to hug you again, to hold your hand like the world hadn’t split between us. What have I done? Will I always feel this tremor when you drift back into my thoughts? Will I always wonder about the things you told others but never told me? Will I always question whether you’re lighter without the weight of me? Will I always carry this quiet regret for choosing the path that led away from you? But love doesn't always return. And I do love you. Yet I am not sorry for breaking the promise we made, for ending the part of the story that could no longer hold us.
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