Please love me right
with kindness that doesn’t fade,
with hands that don’t hurt,
with a heart that remembers
I am here,
waiting
to be known

Her chest feels tight,
Even dreams don’t feel right.
She still flinches when it gets dark at
Midnight.

If we meet again
and I think we will
maybe in another lifetime
you won’t remember
what you did to me.
Not the breaking,
not the silence,
not the way I begged with eyes you never understood.

And still,
I’ll try find you.

I’ll walk through the lives I’m given
searching for the shape of your hands,
the way your voice hesitates before lying.
I’ll know it,
even in another language.


Some loves aren’t meant to be safe
just permanent.
Etched into the soul
like a name we forget
but still flinch at when it’s spoken.

But if I catch a glimpse of you
on a crowded street
or in the eyes of a stranger
I’ll stop.
I’ll look.
And I’ll let my heart break
all over again.

Because loving you
was never a choice.
It was a sentence
I accepted
lifetimes ago.

I’ll look for you
Even in places
I know you aren’t.

Because love like this,
doesn't just die
even when we do.

They don’t hold your heart like I do.
They can’t.
They’re just standing in my grave.

I kept everything.
Your voice,
your rhythm,
your name on my skin,
the way your love tastes
like a secret no one else deserves.

I don’t need to be near
to be close.
You’re still here-
in my quiet,
in my knowing,
in the version of you
I never will share.

If you had died-
because of what I said,
what I didn’t say,
what I became
when you needed softness and I turned to steel-
I swear
I wouldn’t be writing this.
I’d be gone too….

Not out of love.
Out of guilt.
The kind that climbs your spine
like a noose learning your name.

I replay it every second-
your silence,
the hours you vanished into,
the stillness I didn’t recognize
until I imagined you cold.

My hands,
these stupid hands,
could’ve held you.
But they threw the match instead.

I dream of your name
stitched into hospital linen,
and it guts me.
Because if you had slipped away-
for real-
I’d be carving apologies into my skin
just to feel the pain
you almost drowned in.

I’d rather bleed than breathe
if it meant you’d never felt that alone.

But you stayed.
God, you stayed.
And now I’m here
with this monster in my mouth
named regret,
and a thousand I’m sorrys
that don’t resurrect a single thing.

If you ever leave again,
don’t let it be like that.
Don’t let me be the reason
your story almost ended.

How can I ever live with myself?
I can not.