She Believed Him

She stood on that quiet hillside,
heart open like morning light.
She didn’t see the storm behind his smile,
only the warmth in his eyes.

She believed the way he touched her
meant something sacred.
She heard his words
and wrapped them around her ribs
like safety.

She thought if she stayed still enough,
soft enough,
he would stay.

She didn’t know
he was already slipping away—
in his silence, in his shadows.
She mistook his pauses for depth,
his stillness for awe.

But I know now.
I see her—
that girl I was—
painting love on borrowed time.
Whispering truth
into a mouth that never answered.

She gave him her colours.
He left her with a brush
and no goodbye.

And still…
she was art.
Even unfinished.
Even alone