“I’m sorry I left but it was for the best, though it never felt right.”
Such words pleaded to be untrue to you.
They would never really leave you.
They’re coming back.
Why would they leave?
They wouldn’t.
You’re sure of it.
You just have to wait, and they’ll come back soon enough.

But then—
how could they leave you alone just like that?
Betray your trust?
You feel your blood seethe under your skin,
your chest tightening.
Burning.
After all you gave, all those moments shared—
wasted, as if they meant nothing.
Vile.
You told yourself they never cared,
bitterly weaving lies to shield your fragile heart,
fending off the grief with barbed fences of hate and resentment.

Oh, what you’d give for a second chance.
Anything.
Everything.
Memories replay in your mind,
flicking through every word you ever spoke to them,
thinking of what you could have said differently.
Surely, if you had acted differently,
they’d still be here with you.
Just like always.

You don’t want to move.
You don’t want to eat.
You don’t want to sleep.
Or really, you can’t.
An empty hole in your chest is left behind,
taking the space your heart once filled.
How could you be angry?
If they were struggling so much,
why couldn’t you just have helped them?
Maybe then they wouldn’t be gone.
A rope you never held suddenly slipped from your grasp.
Unable to climb to the surface,
you drown in a pool of self-hatred,
every bludgeoning, deprecating thought attacking you
with relentless, mindless force.
A piece of your soul,
ripped from your body.
The beast in your throat begins to claw,
but the tears in your eyes don’t dare to escape,
even though freedom waits on the other side.

Your candle is still lit.
A strange realization when you’d sworn you’d blown it out.
You hold your hands over it, seeking solace in its warm yet burning touch,
softly pricking your skin.
Even when you blow the candle out,
you can always light it again,
even if it’s not the same flame.
It will always bring you light,
even if it’s not the same kind.

And when the candle runs out,
you’ll still have a jar of memories—
small flickers sitting quietly at the back of your mind.
They may not feel important,
but each flame shapes your soul,
a warmth that never fades entirely.
You keep going,
not because you forget,
but because their light becomes a part of you.
A light that will never go out,
even when the flame is gone.