Between Familiar and Gone

Today I felt the weight again - at least I'm feeling now. For months I floated, distant, watching myself from somewhere else. Now I write, I climb, I sweat, learning who I am beneath the numbness. I saw you after all this time, traveled far just to confirm what my heart already knew. You walked toward me, familiar but changed, and every word I'd planned dissolved like sugar cubes into black coffee. Your eyes told me the truth the spark had died, the door was closed. I broke apart, apologized for all the ways I loved you poorly, hurt you, became someone I despise. We talked like strangers after, polite and careful, building walls where bridges used to be. Now I ride the late bus home, crying into empty streets, carrying love that has nowhere to go. -