I still remember
the night everything broke
how the silence in that room
felt louder than the yelling ever did,
how the space beside me
had never felt so empty.
You talk about my leaving
like it was something simple,
like I walked away untouched.
But it took everything in me
to reach for that door,
to turn the handle
without turning back.
And even after the wreckage,
even after love became
something sharp to hold,
I still tried.
I kept stitching at wounds
we both kept reopening,
hoping effort could resurrect
what we had already buried.
You act like it was easy
when I disappeared,
when my messages stopped,
when my name became a ghost.
But I was drowning in us,
and sometimes leaving quietly
is the only way
to survive the noise.
Then you left too.
But you crossed state lines
And took everything I loved
and that hurt even worse.
Because even after everything,
some reckless part of me
still waited for you
to choose me.
And now you stand at the edge
of my life again,
asking for another chance
with the same hands
That pushed me away
And let me go.
I love you.
I always will.
But some loves are hurricanes,
beautiful from far away,
fatal up close.
So if I hope for anything now,
it’s this:
that you never come back,
and that I never again
become weak enough
to open the door.
