He Promised Forever, Then Left

He found me when I wasn’t looking. A quiet smile, a soft voice that wrapped around my loneliness like sunlight on a cold wall. He said my name like it mattered, like it had never been an afterthought before. We walked roads that felt endless, laughing at skies that once made me cry. He held my hand like he would never let go. He promised. Forever. And I believed. Oh, I believed with everything I had left. I opened my chest and handed him my heart— no armor, no mask, just me. Raw. Real. Ready. But forever was shorter than I thought. He left. No reason. No war. Just… emptiness where his voice used to live. I waited for an explanation. It never came. I searched for the version of me I gave to him— but she was gone, still standing in the place where he said goodbye. Now I write poems he’ll never read, about nights he’ll never regret, about love that felt like magic but turned into a ghost. I don’t hate him. But I ache. Because some endings don’t break you— they hollow you, slowly, silently, until you don’t know if you were ever loved at all.