Where do I ever begin to make sense
of the reality of almost having you…
The ghost of all the questions I had
are now staring at me—
Silent, yet sharper
than any answer you could give.
How do I make sense
of the time we had
but wasn’t able to grasp?
How do I make sense
of your sure heart,
yet, you let our chance pass?
How do you expect me
to carry the conviction of your words,
when they arrive too late—
after everything has changed?
I am no longer the person
you once loved; I am the aftermath.
The wound that healed,
the scar that etched,
the proof of the fight you never had
the courage to win over.
I am confused—
but only for a moment.
Because deep down,
I know exactly what I wanted.
When you walked away,
you made me embrace uncertainty.
And now that you’re coming back,
you just give me clarity…
Because I would rather bear
the sharp sting of letting go
than bleed again for someone
who only ever taught me
the tragedy of 𝒂𝒍𝒎𝒐𝒔𝒕 𝒚𝒐𝒖.
—
*image: bill ringer / unsplash
