i looked into
her hazel eyes
a little too long --
which had
surprisingly
been long enough
to wonder
if forever
could fit
in
a
glance.

I brewed the coffee more for you than for me,
A ritual dressed in honesty.
The mug you left — I held it near,
Like touching it might make you appear.
I wrote you notes you never read,
Then tucked them back beneath my bed.

I set your place, then stared at mine,
As if routine could rewind time.
I’d hum your songs to fill the space,
Mistaking ache for your embrace.
But holding on can blur the view —
I feared what leaving meant was true.

And so today, I break that thread,
Not out of hate, but love instead.
I’ll drink for one, I’ll clear your cup —
It’s not moving on, it’s waking up.

You ran to the door like you always did,
no idea what I’d walked out from.
Maybe you waited the nights I was gone —
still hopeful, still sure I’d come.

We played like nothing else mattered at all,
you stayed by the door when I’d leave.
You knew I’d return like I always had —
one of the things I silently grieve.

I don’t know if you’d still know my face,
or if time’s erased what we knew.
Would you still light up if I walked in,
or just stare at me like I’m someone new?

They took you like I never mattered,
like love could just be split in two.
I didn’t leave because I stopped loving —
if it wasn’t for them, I’d still be with you.

I misheard your emotions, I misheard your needs,
I misheard my own heart, now regret counts the beats.
I misheard your plans and acted like I didn’t care,
Now that I’m without you, your absence is all I hear.

There’s an outfit for each kind of day,
one for work, and one to play.
One for silence, one for charm —
I dress to keep their peace from harm.

I match their tone, their pace, their cue,
become the me they’re walking through.
A shifting shape, a face that fits —
but never quite the one that sits.

I dress in layers not for style,
but just to wear a safer smile.
A thousand looks, a thousand designs —
but none align with what’s in mine.

And every mirror looked back at me
But none of them knew who to be
I learned to read the room so well,
I lost the voice I used to tell.

But fabric wears, and so did I,
the cost of always living shy.
I’ve worn their sizes, played their part —
let fashion hide a restless heart.
But now I pull the stitching tight —
and walk in clothes that finally fit right.