You left, I unraveled.
Not gracefully, not quietly,
tore myself apart in the open
where the world could see.
You wouldn’t have recognized me then.
I wasn’t the boy you loved anymore.
I was a shadow dragging his own weight,
a ghost haunted by his own body.

I said things,
did things,
became someone even I couldn’t stomach.
But that wasn’t me.
That was the wreckage
of losing you.

you don’t just leave someone.
You take pieces with you.
the pieces you took,
the ones that made me whole.

Now I sit with the ruin,
misunderstood and misplaced,
I’d give anything,
anything,
to show you
I’m still him.
The boy you once loved.
If you’d just let me,
I could be him.