If Someone Had Stayed

Everyone slept after spilling their pain into arms that held them without asking, while I sat wide awake, longing for someone who never came to ask me how I was holding myself together. If only someone had been mine, maybe sleep would’ve held me too. But every time I get close— they remind me gently, cruelly, that solitude stings less than love that leaves mid-sentence. I never pushed anyone away, never closed the door. It’s just that hearts grow full, and when they do, they walk out— without looking back, without checking if I had more to say. And still, I stay. Still hoping the next one might stay too.