Still, i miss you

It hurts—
knowing your hands will never touch my skin again.
It hurts more—
knowing someone else will.

Were we worth fighting for?
Or was it already burning
before I even noticed the match?

What were we?
And why do I never doubt you loved me?
Was it denial? Belief? Hope?
Or just the way I choose to remember it?

You loved me in the way that felt safe to you—
suitable.
Comfortable.

I think you tried,
but in the end,
you chose you.
Not me.

If you loved me
like I loved you—
I wonder,
would you have made room for me
in the center of your world?
Or did the depth of it all
scare you more than losing me?

Was I not enough
for you to change?
Or was it simply not our time?
I don’t know.
I don’t know what to think.
I don’t know what to feel.
I just know—
I’m empty.

I see a broken glass.

The stars blush quietly
before the sun swallows the sky.
I still see you—
in quiet flashes,
in everything.

I never told you about my little star.
Not really.

Now everyone’s offering me “pity fries”
and calling it comfort.
But I don’t want their sympathy—
I want your silence,
next to mine.

I’m afraid of your honesty—
your ability to shatter with truth.
Like when you said,
“this isn’t your first time feeling this way.”
It landed too sharp and cruel.
Even if you meant
life goes on.
Even if I knew that.

I’m not blaming you.
You just speak in facts.
I speak in fractures.

I didn’t know a heart could break
this many times
and still keep beating.

I miss you.
But even “miss” feels too small now.
I don’t miss you.
I exist inside the thought of you.
It burns through my ribs
and dulls the color in my face.

Everyone says I look dead—
inside and out.
Tears dry on my cheeks
because I don’t even bother to wipe them.
I don’t care.
I don’t want to fix this.

I miss you.
But I don’t want you back.
And you won’t come back anyway.

What do I want?
I don’t know.

I just want
one more hug.
One more kiss.
Quiet, slow, like the last time
we didn’t know was the last.

I hope you smiled today.
I don’t know what I should say anymore.
Maybe I said too much.
Maybe it hurt you.
If it did,
I’m sorry.
That was never the point.

I would’ve still been your shoulder,
If you need it.
Even if mine is still soft from breaking.

You feel life deeply—
more than most.
That’s what made you glow.

And I feel life silently,
in corners,
in scars.
I seem cold,
but I burn quietly.

That’s why I was drawn to you—
maybe more than I ever admitted.

Maybe you were right.
Maybe I’m not what you need.
You need someone stronger,
more grounded.
Someone who won’t crumble
with you.

And I—
I have too many cracks
to carry anyone else.

One day,
all the love songs
will echo in my hollow chest.

And I’ll think of you.

I’m silly, I know.
I just realized—
just because I closed my window
doesn’t mean you won’t walk through someone else’s open door.

And it hurts—
to know your warmth might rest
where I once lit the fire,
while I stay here,
watching the smoke
with no flame left to tend.

I feel powerless.
And even worse—
helpless.

But I’ll carry it.
Like I always do.
Quietly.