When I was aching, you said you ached more.But pain shouldn’t be a competition. You speak of the weight of your decision,days after walking away—but you never saw the weightI carried the moment you let go. You say it’s for the future—for both of us,but what future survives when one gives up? If you’re asking …

I left something in your book—a letter. I watched from a distance,as your eyes landed on the envelope.You looked around, confused. You saw the print—“𝑮𝒍𝒊𝒎𝒑𝒔𝒆𝒔 𝒐𝒇 𝒚𝒐𝒖…”Your breath hitched,and mine caught right along with it. I wrote every word—like a whisper I was too afraid to say.So if your heart races,know that mine did too… …

Your stare—it drifts past me like a breezethat no longer stops. Everyone might not notice,but I do… There’s something in the wayyou avoid meeting my eyes,as if you’ve long stopped wanting me near. I don’t know why, but I feel it—and would you believe it? I’ve stopped hoping because now,I’m beginning to acceptthat what I …

There are silences that give comfort;one that knows and understands. Silences that are necessary;to pause, to savor, to just be still. Silences that demand actions;an eye contact, a smile, a hug—the kind that gives certainty. And then, there’s that silence that bleeds.You hear every whisper, every laughter, every argument—it’s too loud in your head and …