“I Saved Your Messages”

I saved your messages—

not because I cared,

at least that’s what I told myself

on nights when silence stared.

You said, “You’re different.”

God, I fell for that line.

Like I was some rare poetry

you accidentally found online.

You learned all my soft spots,

every fear I tried to hide,

then used them like weapons

the moment I needed you to decide.

I remember the “good mornings”

that felt like sunlight in my chest,

and the “good nights”

that convinced me I was blessed.

But love shouldn’t feel like guessing

which version of you I’d get—

the one who called me “forever,”

or the one who’d slowly forget.

I stayed when it hurt,

left when I broke,

funny how leaving you

was the first truth I spoke.

Now I read those messages differently—

not as proof that you cared,

but as evidence

of how much I dared.

Because I loved loudly,

without a shield, without shame,

and even if you were temporary,

my love was never a game.

So no, I didn’t delete them—

not out of pain or regret,

but to remind myself

I deserve what I haven’t met… yet.