Without You

When I met you,

the weather quietly changed its name.

I mistook you

for spring.

Within days

there was no you and me—

we became one:

you, mine,

and I,

yours.

You stayed connected to me

through every road—

in front of my eyes,

inside my palms,

glowing on a small screen,

like stars

in WhatsApp nights,

lighting tiny lamps

made of words.

Everything I said

felt like poetry to you,

and I believed

your laughter

was the truest language

I would ever learn.

I dove so deep

into loving you

that I forgot

the way back.

And to save us—

or maybe our reputations—

I left you

right there.

I had said,

If our love is real,

distance won’t divide us.

I even came to meet you,

but in your eyes

lived only one question:

If the love was that deep,

why

did you leave?

Then one day

I made a mistake—

I showed the world

a sketch that looked like you,

wrapped in a love poem.

Everything that was mine

I had placed beside you.

You kept smiling at it all—

until another voice,

speaking in the name of honor,

reached your ears.

You were hurt,

and love

suddenly

turned into fear.

That day

I was no longer your friend.

Standing in the crowd,

I became

a criminal.

And you—

without noise,

without goodbye—

erased your name

from my life

forever.

Spring still arrives.

But without you,

every flower

feels unfinished.