I know, I never thought I would be talking to you like this - not in front of you but in memories...in echoes.
I have been holding so much quietly. So many conversations I rehearsed a thousand times over and never had the balls to say when it mattered. Because I always felt that regardless of how I said it in my head, you would throw the same dispassionate look at me that I got when those same eyes that look into my heart like constellations, began to transfer through me like I was never even a person.
You will never know this, but loving you were like walking into a bonfire to keep us warm. It didn\'t work. I was forever burned - in slow motion. And I just stood there, completely in love with the flame to run.
Do you remember how I looked at you, like you were the last prayer of a dying man? You were everything I didn\'t know was missing - an ocean dressed up as a human. I was allowing myself to drown in you, while hoping you wouldn\'t come save me.
I healed myself for you. I dulled out almost everything life had sharpened, hoping you would find comfort in me. I swallowed fears, buried my doubts, stitched kindness into every wound, to ensure you never felt the chaos that lay beneath my skin. I became the quiet that you once told me you sought out. And when I offered you that quiet, you called it emptiness.
What hurt the most was not that you stopped loving me, but that I did not know when it happened. You dimmed out like a sunset I watched too long, hoping the colours would stick around. They didn\'t. You passed into the night, and I remained all alone, staring at the horizon, waiting for light that would never return.
I wish you had destroyed me with rage. With sharp unkindness. But no, you took your leave with softness. With silence. You vanished into the spaces between our sentences, and I didn\'t know until it was too late, to know, that I had been talking to your absence.
There were days—gosh, so many days—when I faced my reflection and questioned what was so terrible about me that even the soul I gave everything to could not remain. I picked apart our moments together like an autopsy, looking for the exact time I lost you. Was it because I sighed, and the sigh was too heavy? Was it because I was silent for too long? Was it because I loved you too much or not enough?
You became the geography of my sadness. All the rooms, all the streets, every word I write, somehow have your name in them. I have lived in your shadow, well, after you stopped casting one.
And you—I don\'t even know if you were ever mine? Or was I just a season in your life—a beautiful thing that bloomed and then fell like leaves in autumn?
I want to be angry, but I can\'t. Because I love you. Pathetically. Unapologetically. Maybe that is my curse, to love someone who couldn\'t love me back in the same way. You, who once said you were afraid to be broken, never saw the cracks forming in me every time you peeled away.I wish you could have seen what I became for you. I was never a great man, but I was a man in love. Fiercely. Honestly. Hopelessly.
And now… I walk with a silent grief stitched into the seams of my days. I laugh, but not like I used to. I dream, but not with believing. I write, hoping you stumble into my words and remember me—not the man who lost you, but the one who tried everything he could do to keep you.
Maybe you will never know what I have become. Maybe my name will slide through your memory like a gust of wind you once knew. Or, maybe… maybe one night you lie awake and feel something missing and will never know it was the man who gave you his heart without asking for anything in return.
I don’t hate you. I can never.But I do miss you.
I suppose, in the end, we all become stories. You became poetry. And I? I became the margin notes—smudged, silent, and never quite part of the tale.
And yet… I loved. Fully. Desperately. Honestly. Perhaps that’s all we can ask of a heart. To love, even knowing it might be torn. To beat, even after it’s broken. To remember, even when forgotten.
I remain.
Unloved.
But not unloving.
And maybe—just maybe—is the noblest kind of love there is……