We grew apart—
not physically, but emotionally.

I watched us fade away,
from each other,
from the world.

Our old photos became antique memories,
hidden in the back of my mind.
Your touch is still engraved in my skin.
Your voice still echoes in my brain.
Your presence, your spirit, still beats within my heart.

The hardest part of change
was knowing it wouldn’t go back.
You wouldn’t be the same person
I once knew so intimately.

I tried to justify your departure.
“This is for the better.”
“We need time apart.”
But nothing filled the comfort you left behind.
No reassuring words or hopeful phrases
could change the irrevocable fact:
you were gone.

I begged the universe for one more night—
to hear your words,
to feel your touch,
to be in your presence just for the sake of it.

But deep down, we both knew—
this was the end.

You were like sand slipping through my fingers.
No matter how tightly I held on,
you were leaving.

I got down on my knees,
pleading with the emptiness,
Stay.
I wanted you—
no, I needed you.

But no matter how much I begged,
you still left.

And so we returned,
to being strangers we once knew.