I’ve traced the weight of words unsaid, the ones that cut, the ones that stayed. I know the ways I did you wrong, and I know the ways I felt betrayed. But here we stand, not lost, not whole, with space to mend, or space to drift. You’ll try, I’ll…

The give, the take—never quite even, a weight I carried just the same. I filled the space, I closed the distance, held the thread that only I maintained. But now the words have had their say, no need to pull, to bend, to keep. What once was mine to hold…

Some doors close without a sound, not locked, not slammed, just left behind. No weight to hold, no thread to pull, just space that time has underlined. Not every path was meant to weave, some simply loosen, some unwind. No need for words, no need for blame, just quieter steps…

I mistook the wind for a turning tide, thought the steps had led somewhere new. But paths don’t change just by moving forward, and neither, it seems, did you. Not less, not more—just not the same, a shape familiar, yet undone. I held the thought of who you’d be, but…