I didn\'t stop because I didn\'t want him.
I stopped because my knees buckled
at how fast I was falling
and there was no ground in sight.
This wasn\'t desire.
This was gravity finding me.
I felt myself rearranging;
values loosening,
future bending,
the careful architecture of who I am
starting to crack under the weight of him.
And I knew;
if I let it happen,
there would be no reverse.
No \"me\" untouched.
No safe version to return to.
So I froze mid-fall.
Do you know what that does to a body?
To stop when every instinct is screaming
to surrender?
I suspended myself
between becoming and disappearing,
muscles burning, lungs locked,
pretending stillness wasn\'t a choice.
He didn\'t leave all at once.
He slipped.
Gravity recalimed him.
And now I live
with the phantom sensation;
the constant pull of something
I was never meant to survive resisting.
This isn\'t heartbreak.
This is structural damage.
Because the worst thing
isn\'t that I lost him.
It\'s that my body remembers
exactly how it felt
to almost let go.
And I will never know
if I would have broken-
or finally landed.