they forget you fast.
faster than you blink.
like a dream that fades
before you can think.
you meant the world—
until you didn’t.
they said forever—
but never meant it.
you missed one call,
one laugh, one night,
and suddenly
you’re out of sight.
they move on
with brand new faces,
fill your space
with different places.
you were the hand
that held them tight.
now you’re the ghost
they leave at night.
no goodbyes.
no sorrys said.
just silence loud
inside your head.
they forget your voice,
your jokes, your name.
they play the part—
but not the same.
you still remember
what they wore,
the way they cried
behind closed doors.
but they forget.
and that’s the sting—
you gave them everything.
and they
gave you
nothing
back.
now you're the song
they used to hum.
a half-heard line.
a quiet
"what’s his name again?"
Jul 3, 2025
Jul 3, 2025 at 3:01 AM UTC