She made you a card,
delicately traced with kisses,
each one a promise she feared she couldn’t keep.
She soaked it in perfume,
hoping it would linger,
poured her heart into words,
but still—
it wasn’t enough to show you her love.

She brought you food every day,
packed with your favorites,
always more than enough—
enough to share,
enough to prove she thought of you
even when you weren’t there.
But even in the smallest offerings,
it still wasn’t enough.

She made a playlist,
songs stitched together with memories of you,
listened religiously,
let your name be the first thing on her lips each morning.
Even then,
It wasn't enough.

You were the reason she stayed.
The reason she slept.
The reason she awoke.
She held your hands despite your doubts,
whispered reassurances you struggled to believe.
She tried to heal herself for you,
tried to be better—
but it still wasn’t enough.

And then, that night in the car,
when she let herself rest in your lap,
you shattered something inside her.
You apologized,
called yourself ****,
but even then, she wanted to stay,
wanted to believe love could erase the hurt.

In the end, she left—
not because she stopped loving you,
but because she was too frozen to stay.
Yet all she remembers now
are the ways she hurt you,
the times she fell short.
She knows she had bad with her good.
She tried to be better—
for you.

When she looks into your eyes,
she doesn’t see the love she gave,
only the girl who was never enough.