I don’t ask for forever—
we both know how that ended.
The pages past are folded,
creased by the weight of all we couldn’t be.

But there’s something quieter I’m holding onto:
this present moment.
The way we talk like old friends
with memories between the words,
not wounds.

I know you're not part of my future—
that chapter’s closed.
But what I’m afraid of,
what keeps me up sometimes,
is that you won’t be part of my now either.

And maybe that’s selfish.
But losing love was one thing.
Losing you altogether
feels like too much.