A dark, aching reflection on being abandoned by someone who once felt like home, and learning to survive the silence, erasure, and lasting echo of a love that walked away without looking back.
You held my wounds
as though they were sacred,
then left them open
when your tenderness grew tired.
Your kindness did not vanish
all at once,
it faded slowly,
like evening light
leaving a room.
I made myself smaller
to keep you near,
folding every need
into silence.
Still, you left
without thunder,
without trembling,
without looking back.
And I remained
among the ruins,
wondering how someone
who once called me home
could walk away
as though I had never existed.
But I was there.
I loved you.
I broke for it.
And even now,
some quiet part of me
is still living
inside the echo
of your leaving.
Writing from the place where silence becomes confession.
Writer and Author.
Still Here After You A dark, aching reflection on being abandoned by someone who once felt like home, and learning to survive the silence, erasure, and lasting echo of a love that walked away without looking back. You held my woundsas though they were sacred,then left them openwhen your tenderness grew tired. Your kindness did not vanishall at once,it faded slowly,like evening lightleaving a room. I made myself...
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