this is for every word i swallowed,
for every time i told myself,
“it’s not worth the fight.”
for all the nights i stayed up rewriting the ending,
a version where you stayed,
where we were enough,
where i didn’t wake up with an ache in my chest.

this is an apology letter
to the girl i used to be.
to the one who thought love
meant sacrificing everything,
even herself.
to the version of me
that believed your “hi”
meant more than a habit you couldn’t shake.

this is for the hours i spent
tracing your face in my mind,
memorizing the way your voice cracked
when you said my name,
as if it held weight.
this is for the way you convinced me
that “sorry” could glue a shattered heart.

you came back,
and i let you.
every **** time.
because even after all the wreckage,
there was still a part of me
that hoped you’d choose me.
but hope is a dangerous thing,
and i learned that the hard way.

this is for the space i carved out for you
in a life i was finally learning to love.
for the way you slipped back in
like you’d never left.
like i hadn’t spent months
rebuilding what you broke.

if you leave again,
i won’t stop you.
not this time.
because i’ve realised
you’re a storm i can’t survive twice.
but if you stay,
know this:
we’re not the same people anymore.
and maybe that’s the tragedy,
or maybe that’s the cure.