
You never really left
all at once.
You left in fragments—
in coffee shops I can’t walk into,
songs I skip halfway through,
and jokes that still make me smile
before I remember
you told them first.
You left me
in the seat beside you
on that 2 a.m. train,
where we didn’t speak—
but your pinky touched mine,
and it was louder than words.
You left me
in the grocery aisle,
arguing over oat milk
like we were building a future
with every mundane choice.
You left me
in every “almost,”
every “maybe,”
every “just give it time.”
I should hate you.
But I don’t.
Because you taught me
that some people aren’t meant to stay—
they’re meant to show you
where the light lives.
And then go.
Now I carry you like sunlight
in the back of my mind—
not enough to burn,
but enough to warm
the coldest parts
of who I used to be.
About the Creator
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