We grew up
on the same street,
two children
sharing dust,
sunsets,
and borrowed dreams.
Loving you
felt natural
like walking home.
Six
seven
years
of almost.
We were a cycle—
break
make
break
make—
a love that never learned
how to stay.
The first time you left
you said nothing.
Silence packed your bags
and dated other people.
Months later
you returned
with an apology
soft as rain,
and I
opened the door
like a fool
who thought sorry
meant forever.
That became our language.
Leave.
Return.
Forgive.
Repeat.
I was supposed
to choose myself,
but I didn’t.
I chose history,
habit,
the boy next door.
Even when my heart
knew the way out
my feet
stayed.
Then one day
I tried to move on,
to love someone
who did not know my past.
That was when you called—
not to stay,
not to heal,
but to pull me back
just in time
to marry someone else.
You closed the door
while I was still inside it.
Years
fell on me at once.
All the time
I had given you
stood up
and asked
why.
I felt like a fool
counting memories
that never counted me.
But now I know:
Loving someone
for years
is not wasted
if it teaches you
how to finally
walk away.
We grew up
on the same street,
but I am the only one
who found the way out.
Feb 27
Feb 27, 2026 at 4:14 AM UTC
We grew up
on the same street,
two children
sharing dust,
sunsets,
and borrowed dreams.
Loving you
felt natural
like walking home.
Six
seven
years
of almost.
We were a cycle—
break
make
break
make—
a love that never learned
how to stay.
The first time you left
you said nothing.
Silence packed your bags
and dated other people.
Months later
you returned
with an apology
soft as rain,
and I
opened the door
like a fool
who thought sorry
meant forever.
That became our language.
Leave.
Return.
Forgive.
Repeat.
I was supposed
to choose myself,
but I didn’t.
I chose history,
habit,
the boy next door.
Even when my heart
knew the way out
my feet
stayed.
Then one day
I tried to move on,
to love someone
who did not know my past.
That was when you called—
not to stay,
not to heal,
but to pull me back
just in time
to marry someone else.
You closed the door
while I was still inside it.
Years
fell on me at once.
All the time
I had given you
stood up
and asked
why.
I felt like a fool
counting memories
that never counted me.
But now I know:
Loving someone
for years
is not wasted
if it teaches you
how to finally
walk away.
We grew up
on the same street,
but I am the only one
who found the way out.
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