She says I left her with scars unseen,
That I’m the reason for wounds unclean.
Funny, though, how swift she fled,
No warnings spoken, just words unsaid.

On the spot, my world collapsed,
Seven years erased, the bond unwrapped.
She claims her pain, yet here I stand,
Holding the shards with trembling hands.

Did I harm her? Did I not care?
Or is blame easier to bear?
While I drown in questions I can’t defy,
She moves ahead without a goodbye.

Did I fall short, or did I misread
The ways I tried to give her all she’d need?
Each word I spoke, each touch, each vow,
Feels hollow now, like it wasn’t enough somehow.

She writes of dreams, of love she longs to find,
Of feeling wanted, held in heart and mind.
But wasn’t that what I tried to be?
Or was I blinded by what I hoped she’d see?

If someone new can heal her scars,
Can be her light, her moon and stars,
Then I’ll step back, though it stings to know
That all I gave couldn’t help her grow.

So here I stand, with open hands,
An echo left in fading sands,
Wondering where my love went wrong,
While she finds her way, where I don’t belong.

I am just a nobody
I am just an ugly human
No one will look my way
No one will hear what I say

I felt this more now
After with her
I realized that I am a nobody
In this cruel world

Did I just get replaced by a friend she met anew?
I, who was once her world, now stand outside the view.
A stranger who stepped in, filling spaces I left bare,
Now holds the place I thought was ours to share.

Our roles have shifted, like night turning to dawn,
I, the familiar, find myself withdrawn.
And he, a newcomer in the chapters of her day,
Becomes the comfort where I used to stay.

It’s strange how quickly life can rearrange,
How swiftly hearts can feel so estranged.
I drift as a memory, faint and out of sight,
While he lights her path through each passing night.

Go ahead.
Go like someone else.
Love someone new again.
After loving me,
You deserve someone worthy.
Did you really love me?
Because of how fast you find someone else?
Of how quick you are to forget,
That I was once with you,
I was once for you,
But not anymore,
clearly,
You like that person
much more.

She seems happier now than she was with me,
A brightness in her I never could see.
I never stopped her from spreading her wings,
I only asked for respect in small things.

Perhaps my love was too heavy to bear,
A weight she carried but couldn’t repair.
Now she’s free, and I’m left to reflect,
On what I gave and what she could accept.

She drifts away, day by day, so slow,
While I’m bound to memories that won’t let go.
She’s healing, living, meeting someone new,
And I’m stuck in shadows, split in two.

She smiles again, while I hold on tight,
To faded moments, lost to the night.
Promises burst like bubbles in air,
Forgotten whispers, no longer there.

She moves with ease, and I fall behind,
Caught in the ties I can’t unwind.
Her world expands, while mine stands still,
Haunted by dreams I can’t fulfill.

So here I stay, as she walks free,
A memory chained, lost at sea.
She’s found her light, her life ahead,
While I’m left with words unsaid.

It’s strange how quickly they try to forget,
How swiftly they turn to leave,
How eagerly they look for someone new,
Just to erase our shadows, to bury our ghost.

Was I just a stepping stone all along,
A path for them to find someone they deserve?
A fleeting chapter in their story,
So they could finally love and truly belong.

But I couldn't.
I couldn't even force myself.
To let go, to move forward.
How I wish, I would just be gone.

They gathered around her when I let go,
Her hopeless heart, saved by those she now knows.
Grateful, she smiles at the one who's near,
A friend of a year, erasing my years.

I see her turn to him, the boy I once feared,
Confessing his heart while I disappear.
Seven long years, now shadows in vain,
While he holds the space I can’t reclaim.

I was her anchor through storms and despair,
But my presence now vanishes, thin as the air.
Jealousy burns, yet I stand here alone,
Watching her heal in a world I don’t own.

Useless, the love I gave, now a ghost,
She found in another what I valued most.
Seven years wasted, or so it feels—
Replaced by a bond that suddenly heals.

I was once fooled by you,
Your words, your promises
I handled it, said it was a thing of the past
I got through it

Then I got fooled again.
Twice.
By your words, your promises,
I let myself believe you.

I knew you weren't gonna change,
Not your past mistakes,
Not your past actions,
You're the same as you were,
Before.

How do I find someone new, like what you did?
How do I focus my feelings on other people, like you?
How do I forget us, as you find again someone new?
How do I throw away the past, like nothing happened?
How do I disregard my promises, like what you did?
How do I end it all?

I was just being myself.
that's all it ever was.
no hidden meanings,
no hearts being passed around,
just someone healing,
trying to stay kind.

I laughed in spaces that felt safe,
joked around in places where I thought
I was understood.
not everything was a signal.
not every word meant more than it said.

but people like to watch
and fill in the blanks
with their own versions of me.
it's easier that way,
to turn a person into a rumor
than to ask them how they really feel.

they said they respected my privacy,
but what do you call it
when you're left out of conversations
you didn't even know you were in?
when sarcasm starts to sound familiar,
and silence feels like a choice?

I explained myself once.
twice.
maybe more.
but no one ever asked again.
they just looked,
and decided.

and maybe this won't mean anything,
or maybe it'll sting a little,
if the shoe fits.

but if you ever wonder why I stopped trying,
it's because friendship shouldn't
feel like defending myself
in a room full of people
who once called me home.

Even metaphors get tired
when they start meaning exactly what they say.
No veils. No cleverness.
Just weight.

I used to write in symbols,
now everything sounds like a flat line
dressed in rhythm.
Not dead,
just uninterested in pretending.

There's no poetry in routine.
No metaphor for fading.
It just does.

Somewhere, a line I never said
keeps repeating itself in silence.
And that's the only echo left.

I stopped looking for shape in the noise.
It no longer bends for me.
Even the static feels deliberate now.

I still write,
but not for anyone.
Not even for myself.

Just to see
if the page will flinch.

It’s startling how fast they forget,
How swiftly their hearts reset.
Barely a pause, not even a sigh,
Before someone new catches their eye.

Was I so easy to leave behind?
All the years gone in the blink of time.
Their love replaced in a hurried stride,
While I’m still lost on the other side.

If love was real, wouldn’t it stay?
But they found another without delay.
And here I stand, watching them go,
Wondering if I ever mattered, though.

It wasn't anything special,
just a way of showing up,
laughs a little too loud,
says things without weighing them,
because not everything
needs to mean something.

People watched from the edge,
turned moments into stories,
shared glances like headlines.
Suddenly, I was someone
they had figured out
without asking.

I've seen the way
quiet shifts in a room,
how sarcasm replaces names,
how people choose
what fits their version of you
and stick with it.

They said they cared,
said they respected distance,
but only when it made
enough sense to them.
Everything else?
Fair game for guessing.

So I stopped explaining.
Not out of pride,
just exhaustion.
Some truths aren't meant
to be repeated
just to be ignored again.

Not everything I do
is a secret message.
Some things are just me,
existing,
without needing
to be decoded.

If it looked a certain way,
it probably did,
to those watching
without context,
without asking,
but still certain they knew.

You talk like you know something
but for all your noise,
you still can't name what I did.

Not clearly.
Not once.
Just scattered words,
bent into shapes that fit your story better than the truth ever could.

You saw ten seconds of me.
then made up the rest.
Convenient, right?
To turn a joke you didn't get
into a crime that never happened.

You never asked.
Never checked.
Just decided.

And now you speak with such certainty,
as if twisting my words
makes yours hold weight.

You mocked how I speak
because you couldn't understand it.
You called it fake
because real things confuse people like you.

You wanted a version of me that you could condemn
without guilt.
You needed someone to blame
so you picked the one who didn't fight back.

You called her names,
not because they were true,
but because you were out of arguments.
When you have nothing to say,
you start reaching for appearance.

You said I redirect blame.
Show me.
Where?
What did I do?

You can't.
Because you don't have facts.
Just feelings.
Just whispers you turned into headlines.

You talk like you're sharp,
but all I see is pride in a house of cards.
So desperate to be right
you forgot to be honest.

So speak.
Twist.
Perform.

Just don't pretend it's truth
when you still
can't even say
what it is
you're so angry about.

There's a light
coming in under the door.
Too dim to be helpful,
too steady to ignore.

You forgot what you came here for,
but now that you're here,
you stay anyway.

A memory brushes past.
Not clearly.
Just enough to make your chest tighten
without knowing why.

The room feels too still.
You hear your own breathing,
then try not to.

Something inside wants to speak,
but the words don't fit right.
Like shoes a size too small.
You leave them at the threshold.

The silence turns warm.
Not comforting,
but familiar.
You've met it before,
and it hasn't changed much.

Then,
a shift.
Barely there.
The kind that makes your eyes sting,
but not from pain.

You look away.
Or maybe inward.
And just like that,
you feel everything,
then nothing,
then everything again.

If I disappear quietly,
don’t paint me as a tragedy,
just remember I was always trying.

Trying to do better,
for everyone, for myself,
even when I was running on empty.

I reached out first.
Again and again.
Fought through silence,
through the ache of being easy to forget.

I stayed kind
when the world gave me every reason not to be.
I answered quickly,
waited slowly,
hoped stupidly.

All I ever wanted
was to matter without having to fight for it.

But I got tired of proving I deserve space.
Tired of showing up for people
who didn’t notice when I went quiet.

"Trying to do better",
that was always my line.
Even when I didn’t know what better looked like anymore.
Even when it felt like I was the only one still trying.

So if one day I don’t make it,
don’t say I gave up.
Just say I ran out of places
to put all the weight I carried
for far too long
without anyone noticing.

I never wanted anything more
than to be okay.

I swear,
I tried.

It wasn't just someone walking away.
It was the quiet that followed.
The kind that sits in your chest
long after the door has closed,
echoing in a house that once felt full.

I lost the way I spoke without thinking.
I lost the weight of being understood.
I lost the habit of reaching for a hand
that's no longer there,
the instinct to share something small,
a thought, a laugh, a bad day,
and the grief when no one replies.

There are no loud endings.
Just days that look the same,
measured only by what's missing.
Sleep that doesn't rest,
meals eaten out of necessity,
a world that keeps spinning
when I feel stuck in a moment
that already passed.

I lost more than I can explain,
and maybe I'm still losing.
Not in pieces,
but slowly, quietly,
in ways no one sees.

Funny,
how people break promises
like twigs underfoot,
loud enough to hear,
small enough to ignore.

They hand you a vow
with velvet words,
tie it in ribbons,
say "You can trust me."
You do.

Then comes the silence.
The flinch.
The "Why are you so sensitive?"
As if it wasn’t them
who lit the match
and called the smoke your imagination.

They break it,
the promise, the trust,
sometimes the last bit of you
that believed people mean what they say.

Then they watch you bleed
and ask why you’re making such a mess.

I don't remember when it started.
The silence.
The leaving.
The ache that never asks for attention,
but never stops asking to be felt.

People say time heals.
I think it just teaches you how to walk
while carrying everything you've buried.
Grief has no finish line.
It just learns to sit beside you,
uninvited,
unmoving.

I've lost more than names.
I've lost voices I used to hear every day.
Hands I used to hold.
Warmth I used to believe would stay.
And not all of them died,
some just left,
as if I was easy to unlove.

My father is a memory now.
So are my dogs.
So are the parts of me
that once believed the world could be soft.

And the worst part?
I keep trying.
I still open up,
still let people in,
even when the past keeps warning me not to.

But they always go.
Quietly.
Suddenly.
Like they were never here to begin with.

Sometimes I wonder what's wrong with me.
Other times I'm just too tired to wonder.

I laugh with people.
I listen.
I stay up helping everyone else heal,
but I come home to an empty inbox.
To a room that forgets I exist
the moment I close the door.

It's not just loneliness.
It's being unseen,
even when you're right in front of them.
It's realizing your absence
doesn't interrupt anyone's life but your own.

I've cried in the dark
so no one would have to carry it.
I've hidden so much pain
just to be easier to love.
And still, they leave.

Still,
they leave.

I wish I was cold.
Detached.
Untouched by it all.
But I'm not.
I'm soft.
I'm breaking and still offering my hands.
I'm hurting and still hoping someone
might choose to stay.

Even now,
I want to be seen.
Not for what I pretend to be,
but for all of it,
the mess,
the ache,
the heart that never stopped opening,
even when it kept getting torn apart.

If I am a story,
I am one no one finishes reading.
But I write myself anyway.

Just in case someone
ever wants to know how it ends.