I asked you if you were leaving.
Not because I didn’t know—
but because I couldn’t feel the ground
underneath the word goodbye.

You said,
“Yeah. Why?”
And I saw it in your eyes—
that same hesitation I carried
like a weight behind my ribs.

I asked again,
"When are you leaving?"
You gave me a month.
I asked again,
"When are you leaving leaving?"
Because dates are never what I want.
I want to know when the absence begins.
When the presence stops feeling like mine.

You said,
“December.”

I turned to walk away,
trying not to feel like a child
begging for a hand to hold
without ever reaching.

But then—
“Erm.”
A syllable caught like breath on a thread,
pulling me back.
I looked at you, waiting for the unravel.

You said,
“You still have two weeks with me.”

Like a gift.
Like a wound wrapped in ribbon.

Two weeks—
as if time ever listens when you ask it to slow down.
As if memory is gentle.
As if a goodbye with both hands
could ever be enough.

I smiled,
not with joy,
but with the ache of knowing
some people arrive
and leave
without ever needing to touch you
to leave fingerprints
all over who you are.

And I waved—
like a child
still believing
maybe, just maybe,
you’d stay
a little longer
if I looked back
long enough.

Some people
walk into your life like they own it
leave their coat on the chair,
their laughter in your walls,
their scent in your pillow.

And then one morning,
they’re gone.
Not a fight,
not a storm,
just…
gone.

You clean the chair.
You wash the pillow.
But the walls
the walls keep the echo.

Funny, isn’t it?
How someone can be temporary,
but the way they break you
doesn’t check out when they do.

I wait.
I open my screen, and there I see
a notification—
not from you,
but from Duolingo, urging me to do my Latin lesson today.

I hear a ring.
I look at my screen,
and there it is—
a notification,
not from you,
but from my best friend who needs me to select a dress for her.

Then I see a blink.
I look at my screen,
and there it is—
a notification,
not from you,
but from the group chat I’ve been a member of since 2023.

And I finally tuck my phone away.
Then I hear a ding.
I look at my screen,
and there it is—
a notification,
yet not from you.

the wind moves my feet.
my eyes shining like the sun and the sea.

"your love brings me to my knees."

her sigh is a whisper
soft like autumn leaves
silently falling to the cold ground.

the shadow of a smile.
my heart misplaced
like a paper lantern in the rain.

my broken sky,

her soft sigh
and I was no longer hers.

Every soul
I swore an oath not to lose
became the ghosts
I learned to carry
in silence.

if the reader
falls in love with the character of a book,
their love can be eternal.

he can over and over re-read
each part of his beloved.
he can just stop for a while
and gently touch the mirage.
he can even ****** a piece
and carry it for a lifetime.

but what happens
if the character
falls in love with the reader?

Life is a series of circles,
That's why we don't like it as much.
Because it's only back and forth,
Around the course.
It's getting better for a while,
Then going back to where we were.
We can't accept who we are,
It doesn't work like that.
There's too much piled on,
That makes us want to rot.
It's something better,
Then the same.
I only like one loop,
It's the flashy earing,
On the girl I want so bad,
Sometimes.
Because she's exactly what I have in my head,
Though I understand I could never have her hand.
I was made to fight in this broken place,
She was made for better things.

When I was younger,
I'd change the station,
At the first sign of an Olivia Rodrigo song.

When I was younger,
I never knew the toll someone could take on you,
The way they could change you,
In a way nobody seems to understand.

Now that I'm here,
Listening to every single Olivia song,
I understand the things a person taken by love will do.
Now that I'm here,
I know what it's like to wreck your life,
For the hope you'll get something back.

At times I still want to take it back,
Fold into your arms,
Defeated, but loved.
At times I hate myself,
For latching onto your memory.
That I let you hog a part of me,
Can you please go away?