I'm still here

I’m still here

I don’t think we were meant for each other

But if your name lit up my screen today,

and your voice carried even the smallest crack,

the past wouldn’t matter anymore.

If you said you needed me,

I’d forget every goodbye we ever said

If your silence felt heavier than usual,

I’d already be on my way. If fear hid in your voice,

I’d call back without thinking,

just to hear what your heart couldn’t say

If you sounded small, quiet, painful, scared, stressed,

I’d be the safest space to hear all your secrets confess

If your expectations betrayed you again,

If your overthinking had won,

I’d run with whatever it is,

you need patience, time, safety and trust

If you felt insecure,

I’d remind you of every beautiful thing about you

If you couldn’t speak at all, I’d sit in silence with you

Until words felt safe again

I’d hold you so gently, so as to not break anything more

Then help you see all the times,

you’ve put yourself back together

Because even if we were never right for each other,

even if we become nothing ever again,

you still mean so much to me,

And if you ever called and needed something,

ofcourse I would be there, even if you think nobody cares,

somebody does after all

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ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

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Every page I wrote you were on it

Not as a name but as a feeling

You lived in my poetry,

In between the sentences,

On every page of my journal

I never let anyone see

I wrote of skies, of wounds, of art

Yet somehow, you were in every part

Not as a name, but as a scar,

A distant light, a dying star

I tried to write a life anew,

But every story led back to you

Maybe you were the language,

My heart learned first

And now I see, with quiet regret,

Every page I wrote belonged to you,

Not me, not yet

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ΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩΩ

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I told myself this one would be different,

That I would finally write about something else,

Something lighter, something untouched

By the weight of what we were

So I began with strangers,

Gave them names you never had,

Placed them in cities we never saw,

Under skies that didn’t remember us

I built entire worlds without you,

Or at least, I tried to

But somewhere between the first line

And the last breath of a sentence,

You slipped in quietly

Like you always did

Not loudly, not enough to notice at first,

Just a feeling—

Familiar, persistent,

Impossible to ignore

You were in the way the words hesitated,

In the way they curved around something

They couldn’t quite say

I wrote about love that was easy,

The kind that stays,

The kind that doesn’t leave questions

Hanging like unfinished thoughts

But even then,

Something felt untrue

Because every version of love I understood

Was shaped by you—

By the way you came,

And the way you didn’t stay

I tried to write about endings,

Clean ones,

The kind that make sense

When you reach the final page

But ours never did

It lingered

In commas,

In pauses,

In sentences that refused to end

I erased you a hundred times,

Watched your name disappear

From lines that once held you so gently

And yet,

You remained

Not as letters,

But as something deeper—

A rhythm my writing had learned,

A silence it couldn’t replace

Maybe you were never just a person

In my story

Maybe you were the language itself,

The way my thoughts learned to feel,

The reason my words carried

More weight than they should have

Because even now,

When I write about loss,

About distance,

About the quiet ache of becoming something new—

It still sounds like you

And I wonder,

If I ever write something

That doesn’t carry your shadow,

Will it still feel like mine?

Or have I given so much of myself

To what we were

That every page I touch

Will always, in some way,

Belong to you

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*bow* done

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