Things I’ll Never Say
HEARTBREAKLONELINESSLOSS
There are things I want to tell you.
Things I want to say.
About how you broke me
that late July day.
There are things I want to ask.
Things I want to know.
About why you decided
to just… let me go.
And maybe it would serve a purpose,
but only mine.
Because no matter what I ask,
nothing you say could make it right.
So I’ve decided
to just try
and let it all be.
But letting go,
that’s not peace.
That’s not silence.
It’s not forgiveness.
Letting go
is waking up to emptiness
and pretending it feels like freedom.
It’s passing the places we stood
and calling it fine.
It’s deleting your number
but knowing it by heart anyway.
You left like a storm ending
quiet,
but the wreckage stayed.
And I tried to rebuild,
but some parts of me
refused to stand again.
I still lean
toward the sound of your memory.
I still see your face
in the reflection of things I thought I fixed.
I’ve written you a thousand letters
and burned every one.
Each began with “I miss you,”
and ended with “don’t come back.”
Each flame that rose
was a funeral for another version of us.
You taught me that closure
isn’t something we’re given,
it’s something we carve,
with bleeding hands,
from what’s left behind.
Still… I wonder.
Do you ever think of me?
Not the broken version.
Not the man who begged the silence for an answer.
But the one who tried,
who wanted,
to love you whole.
Do you ever hear a song
and feel your chest tighten,
not because it’s beautiful,
but because it sounds like us?
I still remember your smile,
how it hit like sunlight through smoke.
Now I only see it
in the photos on my phone.
There was a time I’d have begged
for you to explain why.
Now I just want peace.
I don’t need to know
why you stopped choosing me.
I just need to stop carrying it
like proof
that I was never enough.
Some nights I still talk to you.
Out loud.
Like maybe the air remembers us.
I tell you I forgive you
even when I don’t.
Because forgiveness
is the only way I know
to stop drowning in what could’ve been.
Maybe one day,
you’ll think of me,
and it will hurt.
Maybe one day,
I’ll think of you,
and it won’t ache.
Until then,
I’ll let the memories fade
like old photographs left in the sun.
Still beautiful,
but no longer mine.
There are things I want to tell you.
And things I’ll never say.
But I hope…
somehow…
you feel them anyway.
to know you burned straight through me.
