A Heart That Refuses Closure

I never learned

how to loosen my grip.

The feelings stay the same,

anchored deep beneath my ribs

like rusted chains welded shut.

You speak as if time is enough,

as if months can dissolve memory,

as if distance can teach my heart

to forget the shape of your name.

But you don’t understand.

Letting go sounds simple

to people who have never held on

with bleeding hands.

It is easier to suffer in silence,

easier to build a home inside the wreckage,

than to walk away from something

you once called forever.

Staying hurts.

God, it hurts.

It carves hollows in me

I cannot fill back in.

Yet leaving feels worse,

like tearing my own bones apart

just to escape the collapse.

So I remain.

Bruised by hope.

Destroyed by what’s left of us.

Still waiting for an ending

that makes sense.

Because this was never supposed to be it.

Not here.

Not now.

The final page was supposed to close softly,

marking the end of a chapter,

a pause before the next beginning.

Not a fire consuming the whole story.

Not silence swallowing every word

we never got to finish.