You ran to the door like you always did,
no idea what I’d walked out from.
Maybe you waited the nights I was gone —
still hopeful, still sure I’d come.

We played like nothing else mattered at all,
you stayed by the door when I’d leave.
You knew I’d return like I always had —
one of the things I silently grieve.

I don’t know if you’d still know my face,
or if time’s erased what we knew.
Would you still light up if I walked in,
or just stare like I’m someone new?

They took you like I never mattered,
like love could just be split in two.
I didn’t leave because I stopped loving —
if it wasn’t for them, I’d still be with you.

© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma

I brewed the coffee more for you than for me,
A ritual dressed in honesty.
The mug you left — I held it near,
Like touching it might make you appear.
I wrote you notes you never read,
Then tucked them back beneath my bed.

I set your place, then stared at mine,
As if routine could rewind time.
I’d hum your songs to fill the space,
Mistaking ache for your embrace.
But holding on can blur the view —
I feared what leaving meant was true.

And so today, I break that thread,
Not out of hate, but love instead.
I’ll drink for one, I’ll clear your cup —
It’s not moving on, it’s waking up.

© Copyright 2025 - Limes Carma