Thank you for the quiet goodbye,
For following truth, not weaving a lie.
Though it pierced me, deep and slow,
You chose the path where honesty grows.

The pain of missing you is killing me,
But I know it’s a kinder cruelty.
Had you chosen me, with her in your mind,
It would have unraveled me, piece by piece, in time.

I’d have wondered if her shadow lingered there,
If your gaze held her image, your heart split, unfair.
I could have been your shelter, your flame,
But in my arms, her name would remain.

It would have destroyed me, not to know,
If your love was whole, or part of a show.
To lie awake, fearing every embrace,
Was a memory of her you couldn’t erase.

And worst of all, the quiet doubt,
That your choice of me had shut something out.
That you wondered, in silence, if you were right,
While I loved you with all my might.

So thank you for sparing me that fate,
For stepping back before it was too late.
For loving me enough to let me be free,
From the shadow of a love not meant for me.

The pain of missing you may never leave me,
But your choice saved me from far greater agony.
I’m grateful you chose her,
And even more grateful you chose not to destroy me.

They tell me that everything has its time—
Each heartbreak, each joy, every mountain to climb.
But here I sit, drowning in despair,
Wondering why you’re not standing there.

Is it because my body’s wearing thin,
A battle outside reflecting within?
The aches and the weight that drag me down,
A silent war where I feel I might drown.
My balance is gone; the world spins fast,
Each moment a fight just to make it last.
I clutch at walls to steady my pace,
Yet even standing feels like a race.
I’m trapped in a body that won’t obey,
A fragile shell that fades away.

The mirror feels cruel, revealing my fight—
A body in shadow, drained of its light.
I don’t know this face, these heavy eyes,
The weight of sorrow, the endless cries.
It doesn’t see the war inside my mind,
Only the shell that’s been left behind.
I search for the person I used to see,
But all that’s left feels foreign to me.

Maybe the reason we’re not together now
Is hidden in the weight I carry somehow.
My body is failing; my mind feels weak.
The healing I need will take months, not just weeks.
I’m fighting a battle I don’t fully understand,
Too broken to hold another’s hand.

And perhaps you’re healing in your own way,
Facing the wounds you’ve buried each day.
There are pieces of you that still need repair—
A journey to take while I’m not there.
Maybe the universe knows what we don’t,
That we need this time apart to grow.

I wish you were here to steady my fall,
To be my comfort, my strength through it all.
To hold me close, to ease this pain,
To bring some light to the endless rain.
But my sickness is not a burden you should bear,
Not for someone already lost in despair.
You’re fighting your demons, I know that’s true—
It wouldn’t be fair to place this on you.
So maybe it’s better that you’re not near,
For you too have wounds that need to clear.
Perhaps this distance, though hard to endure,
Is part of the reason we’re meant to mature.

And as the year slips closer to its end,
I pray for more time, though I cannot pretend.
With my health declining, I can’t promise tomorrow—
Each day is a balance of hope and sorrow.
Still, everything happens for reasons unseen.
What will be, will be, whatever it means.

Yet, there’s a whisper, soft yet unkind—
A shadow that lingers deep in my mind.
What if the stars won’t guide you back?
What if this love is the one thing I lack?
What if the reasons I cling to are lies,
And love won’t return, no matter my tries?
Am I holding to hope just to numb the fear,
Afraid to accept that you’ll never be near?

Maybe we’re not soulmates; maybe it’s true.
Maybe the stars weren’t meant for me and you.
But I truly believe everything happens for reasons unseen,
Guiding us gently, wherever they mean.

So, if you’re my person, the stars will align.
Through distance and time, your heart will find mine.
If we are meant to be, that truth will arrive.
But first, I must focus on staying alive—
Healing my body, reclaiming my mind,
Seeking the strength I thought I’d never find.
For only when I’m whole can love take its place,
And time will reveal if you share that space.

For now, I wait, with questions unspoken,
Believing some truths are best left broken.
And maybe, just maybe, the path we can’t see
Is still guiding us gently to where we should be.

I won’t reach out again—not now, not soon,
Though my heart still whispers to the silent moon.
Your voice still lingers in the corners of my mind,
But I’ve learned that love can’t outrun the unkind.

You said goodbye—so softly, yet so clear,
A dagger wrapped in words I still half-fear.
And though I’d trade the stars for one more day,
I’ll not beg a soul who chose to walk away.

Twice, you will not tell me I’m not your choice;
I won’t silence my worth to quiet your voice.
I’ll assume you’re happy; she holds your hand,
While I hold my silence, as was your command.

I miss you so much; how I wish you could see,
But I’ll carry this ache with quiet dignity.
You’ll hear no message, no pleading refrain;
The echo of absence will call out your name.

If you wish to speak, you’ll know where to find
The woman who once gave her heart and her mind.
But until you seek me, this truth will remain:
I’ll never again walk toward love through the rain.

Though you chose her, you said it was ease—
A history shared, and distance that pleased.
You spoke of your love, how real it had been,
But love that’s weighed against ‘easy’ can’t win.

I’m not a fallback, a regret to erase,
A comfort you seek when you’ve lost your place.
I’m not the safe harbor you turn to in shame,
When the love you chose no longer feels the same.

I won’t be a shadow, a thought in the haze,
A memory you chase on your loneliest days.
I understand mistakes—we all lose our way,
And maybe you’ll see it more clearly one day.

But know this: I will never be second to none;
A choice made for comfort is a love that’s undone.
If you realize the weight of what you let go,
I’ll forgive the mistake, but still, you should know:

I may understand, but I’ll never comply;
I’m no one’s ‘what if,’ no matter the why.

When will the mornings feel different?
When your name doesn’t linger in my first thought,
When the light through the blinds doesn’t whisper your face,
And I rise without the weight of your absence?

When will the nights turn soft with forgetting?
When the pillow cradles only sleep—
Not the ghost of your laughter, your voice in my ear,
Not the echo of all that could never be?

When will the music play untainted,
A melody not stitched with your shadow?
When will I stop wondering if you’d love this song,
If its rhythm might stir something deep in you,
And silence the urge to send it your way?

When will the sight of your favorite team
Be just a score, a game, a fleeting moment—
Not a trigger pulling me back
To the sidelines of my unspoken longing?

When will the world stop speaking your name
In everything, in everyone, in places unknown?
When will my heart stop aching for answers
That it knows will never come?

Maybe the day will come.
Or maybe it never will.

It’s not that I want you gone from my head—
But I want you closer, real, mine.
I love you, I miss you,
And I know I always will.

I had forgotten the language of fire,
How words could burn and rise, inspire.
For years, my heart lay cold and still,
A hushed and empty, barren hill.

But then he came, with a quiet spark,
A light in the void, a song in the dark.
His presence a key, unlocking the door,
To parts of myself I’d lost before.

He stirred the ashes, he fanned the flame,
Awakening passions I could not name.
Poems poured forth, creativity bloomed,
A garden of love where shadows loomed.

Not since sixteen had I loved this way,
So fiercely alive, so willing to stay.
He reminded me of what it could be,
To love without fear, to simply be free.

But now he is gone, his light withdrawn,
And the fire he lit flickers at dawn.
My pen grows heavy, my heart turns cold,
As the warmth he gave begins to fold.

He was my muse, my radiant sun,
The source of the art my soul had spun.
Now every verse feels brittle and thin,
A hollow echo of what might have been.

Still, I thank him for the time he gave,
For waking the parts I couldn’t save.
Though the flame may fade, the embers remain,
A whisper of love, a trace of pain.

Before I met him, I lived underwater,
A sea of chaos, a storm to slaughter.
Each breath was a battle, each stroke in vain,
A silent war with an endless pain.

Then he arrived, like light on the tide,
Clarity cutting through where shadows abide.
A life raft extended, his hand to my own,
For the first time, it felt I wasn’t alone.

He was the stillness my storms couldn’t shake,
A mirror of truths I feared to face.
His voice was the anchor I craved to stay,
Yet his gaze lingered elsewhere, a fragile sway.

For she was the current pulling him near,
And I, just the waters he learned to clear.
The day he chose her, the raft pulled away,
And I sank, unmoored, into endless gray.

Now my mind’s a swamp of tangled debris,
The echoes of clarity haunting me.
What once was a beacon now clouds my view,
A love that drowned me, though it felt true.

Yet somewhere beneath this murky despair,
The memory lingers, gasping for air.
One day, perhaps, I’ll rise and float free,
No longer his waters—just wholly me.