that had no answers,
only ringing calls
and a screen that stayed cold.
I cried into hours
that did not move,
waiting for a version of you
that would turn back
but didn’t.
Morning came
with your voice again,
like nothing had broken,
like silence
hadn’t carved something in me.
We went away,
shared air, shared time,
but something stayed behind
that girl from the night
still sitting on the floor,
still holding her phone.
And now I’m home,
and I don’t know
how to feel whole again
when a piece of me
was never picked up.
i also almost....
I smiled,
but it didn’t reach the place
you once knew how to find.
You held me,
but not the part
that stayed hurting.
You said sorry
soft, brief,
like closing a door
without checking
what was left outside.
And I said okay,
because I didn’t know
how to ask for more
without sounding like
too much.
So here I am—
almost okay,
almost happy,
almost like before.
But “almost”
is a lonely place to live.
