Never Mine

You were never mine,

but I held you like a habit I couldn’t quit.

I counted your texts like proof,

waited for replies like they owed me something,

turned your silence into hope

because hope was easier than truth.

You never said you loved me—

your eyes hovered near the word.

Your touch paused long enough

to teach me what it wasn’t.

And I—

I made a life out of almost.

Built futures on maybes.

Mourned a home

that never opened its door.

Isn’t it strange

how the deepest ache

comes from loving someone

who never asked us to stay?