It shatters me to admit—
my heart still aches for you.
Out of everyone in this world,
it chose you,
and it never once changed its mind.

It’s been years,
and still, I find myself turning toward you.
Not for answers—
just for the calm I once felt near you.
I don’t even know if it was love anymore.
But I held on like it was.

How did you move on
so quietly, so completely,
while I break
in the silence you left behind?

You say you still care—
but care has never felt this hollow.
Whatever remains in you
doesn’t reach the depths
of what drowns me every night.

Because I still think of you
in every empty moment,
still wonder if you’re okay,
if the world is kind to you,
when you might not even
whisper my name
in your thoughts anymore.

I don’t know
if your glance held what mine did—
a spark,
or just silence.

Maybe it shook you,
or maybe
you were just passing through.

But when I looked at you,
everything in me
stood still—
and somehow,
the world felt right.

I thought
seeing you
might stitch something shut in me—
or show me why
it’s time
to walk away.

But each glance
brought the butterflies back from the dead,
fluttering like they never knew
how you once crushed them.

Instead of learning
what I truly deserve,
I found myself
falling for you again—
harder, deeper,
more recklessly than before.

Why?
Why am I drunk
on a love
that once shattered me?

Love is allowed—
but being with you isn’t.
We live in the spaces between rules,
where wanting you feels like breaking something sacred.

I love you when I’m not supposed to.
I need your warmth, your touch,
even when I know I shouldn’t.

But how do I unlove the only person
who ever made me feel what love really is?
How do I silence a heart
that only beats louder in your name?

No one will understand—
that you’re the sunlight in my darkest thoughts,
that just your memory
can soften the hardest part of my day,
that you’re the reason
I still want to wake up tomorrow.

Our love is forbidden.
We’re not meant to be.
But I can’t help it.
I can’t stop loving you—
with every piece of me
that’s still somehow whole because of you.

You say I’m like a sister,
but your eyes
hold me too long.

You have someone—
yet I feel your soul
each time you smile at me.

So tell me,
is this kindness—
or something
you’re too afraid
to name?

You left once,
and I learned the silence.

So if you go again,
don’t expect a crack.
Not a tear,
not a tremble.

Not even
a single vein
will flinch.

I’ve already buried
what you broke.

You have someone.
So why do you look at me
like I’m the only one
in the room?

Why is your kindness
sharper with me,
your words softer,
your eyes lingering
a little too long?

You don’t treat them
like this.
You don’t treat anyone
like this.

So if your heart is taken,
why does mine
feel so caught?