i don't just live
in the past
i am
becoming it
my hands
look like
september 2023
my eyes
hold the colour
of a goodbye
i never received
properly
my body
has memorised
the weight
of a love
that ended
through someone else's mouth
i am not
just rooted
in the past
i am
slowly
becoming it
the way wood
becomes the ground
it fell on
quietly
completely
without anyone
noticing
our memories
live in my bones
not in my mind
anymore
i don't think them
i am them
the roots
didn't just
anchor me here
they replaced me
with the past
piece
by
piece
i wonder
if i have
any parts left
that are not
made of
you
of us
of september
of a sixteen year old girl
waiting for an ending
that came
secondhand
maybe this
is what happens
when love
gets no closure
it doesn't move on
it fossilises
inside you
and you
become the artifact
of something
that never got
to finish
i am the past now
i am the memory
i am the portrait
with the empty space
beside me
you are supposed
to be there
standing next to me
in this portrait
we were meant
to share
but it is me
who stayed
me who is left
unmoved
you
are not gone
you are just
not here yet
still somewhere
between leaving
and returning
never fully
either
and still
i do not move
i remain
exactly where
you left me
as if moving
would mean
you'd come back
and not find me
where you left me
as if staying
is the only way
to keep
the portrait
from becoming
just mine
i am the roots
and the soil
and the september
and the silence
where your explanation
should have been
and somewhere
you are
neither here
nor there
still suspended
between us
and nothing
and here i am
becoming the past
becoming less of now
more of then
more of us
more of that love
more of that girl
who deserved better
and gave everything
and still
did not move
still
left
unmoved
Apr 10
Apr 10, 2026 at 4:15 PM UTC
i don't just live
in the past
i am
becoming it
my hands
look like
september 2023
my eyes
hold the colour
of a goodbye
i never received
properly
my body
has memorised
the weight
of a love
that ended
through someone else's mouth
i am not
just rooted
in the past
i am
slowly
becoming it
the way wood
becomes the ground
it fell on
quietly
completely
without anyone
noticing
our memories
live in my bones
not in my mind
anymore
i don't think them
i am them
the roots
didn't just
anchor me here
they replaced me
with the past
piece
by
piece
i wonder
if i have
any parts left
that are not
made of
you
of us
of september
of a sixteen year old girl
waiting for an ending
that came
secondhand
maybe this
is what happens
when love
gets no closure
it doesn't move on
it fossilises
inside you
and you
become the artifact
of something
that never got
to finish
i am the past now
i am the memory
i am the portrait
with the empty space
beside me
you are supposed
to be there
standing next to me
in this portrait
we were meant
to share
but it is me
who stayed
me who is left
unmoved
you
are not gone
you are just
not here yet
still somewhere
between leaving
and returning
never fully
either
and still
i do not move
i remain
exactly where
you left me
as if moving
would mean
you'd come back
and not find me
where you left me
as if staying
is the only way
to keep
the portrait
from becoming
just mine
i am the roots
and the soil
and the september
and the silence
where your explanation
should have been
and somewhere
you are
neither here
nor there
still suspended
between us
and nothing
and here i am
becoming the past
becoming less of now
more of then
more of us
more of that love
more of that girl
who deserved better
and gave everything
and still
did not move
still
left
unmoved
