Writers Jam

i don’t think you knew
how often i paused mid-song
because the second verse sounded
a little too much like you

i don’t have a box of your things —
no hair clips,
no sweater,
no letters —
just a faded memory of your voice
saying my name
(it was Tuesday—no, Thursday—
the day you forgot your umbrella)

some people leave quietly
but you?
you slipped out between plans:
between we’ll figure it out
and i’ll call you
(you never called)

i don’t hate you
God, i don’t hate you
i just hate that you exist
in a time
i can’t go back to

and maybe that’s the part
that hurts the most —
that we never ended,
we just…
stopped

i still walk past places
we never went to
and imagine us there:
laughing about something stupid,
fighting over nothing,
living some other life
where we tried harder
or wanted less

but life doesn’t pause
for the maybes —
it moves,
even when your heart
stays two steps behind

so this is me:
letting go of the story
we didn’t write,
and the love
that never learned
my address

i won’t hold
what couldn’t hold me,
but i’ll keep
the way you said “always”
like you meant it
(even if you didn’t)