Maybe it’s selfish.
To ask him to stay,
when she knows this aches.
To still want his laugh
beside her,
when his heart
needs room to heal.
But still,
She reach.
Like habit.
Like hope,
that doesn’t know how to stop.
He never asked why.
Never asked
what made her say no.
Never asked
what kind of love
might have changed it.
And maybe she wishes he did.
Because she,
she wanted to see it.
That possibility.
That strength.
That quiet, unshakable kind of love
that doesn’t flinch
at her shadows.
She hoped,
part of her did.
That someone
might find the key
to her locked door.
But she needs more.
Someone who leads with vision,
who can hold her weight
and not collapse under it.
Someone steady.
Sure.
Because when she loves,
she loves hard.
Without conditions.
And the last time broke her
in places no one sees.
She doesn’t survive heartbreaks.
She buries parts of herself with them.
Her past,
it didn’t just end.
It taught her how love could feel.
It carved a memory of it
into her bones.
so vast, so consuming,
so full, so undeniable.
And even when it fell apart,
it left behind a measure.
Not of perfection,
but of possibility.
She can’t give herself
to anything softer
than that same echo.
To ask him to stay,
when she knows this aches.
To still want his laugh
beside her,
when his heart
needs room to heal.
But still,
She reach.
Like habit.
Like hope,
that doesn’t know how to stop.
He never asked why.
Never asked
what made her say no.
Never asked
what kind of love
might have changed it.
And maybe she wishes he did.
Because she,
she wanted to see it.
That possibility.
That strength.
That quiet, unshakable kind of love
that doesn’t flinch
at her shadows.
She hoped,
part of her did.
That someone
might find the key
to her locked door.
But she needs more.
Someone who leads with vision,
who can hold her weight
and not collapse under it.
Someone steady.
Sure.
Because when she loves,
she loves hard.
Without conditions.
And the last time broke her
in places no one sees.
She doesn’t survive heartbreaks.
She buries parts of herself with them.
Her past,
it didn’t just end.
It taught her how love could feel.
It carved a memory of it
into her bones.
so vast, so consuming,
so full, so undeniable.
And even when it fell apart,
it left behind a measure.
Not of perfection,
but of possibility.
She can’t give herself
to anything softer
than that same echo.
She cannot give her heart
to anything less
than something that feels
just as true,
or truer.
to anything less
than something that feels
just as true,
or truer.
So she said no.
To protect what little
of herself is left untouched.
And still,
there’s guilt.
For being someone’s ache.
For saying no
to someone who meant something real.
So now,
too late maybe,
she whispers it anyway:
maybe time will tell
what they’re meant to be,
just friends,
a quiet, platonic bond,
or maybe,
some gentle possibility
not yet known.
But for now,
let’s just stay friends.
Just friends.
Nothing else.
To protect what little
of herself is left untouched.
And still,
there’s guilt.
For being someone’s ache.
For saying no
to someone who meant something real.
So now,
too late maybe,
she whispers it anyway:
maybe time will tell
what they’re meant to be,
just friends,
a quiet, platonic bond,
or maybe,
some gentle possibility
not yet known.
But for now,
let’s just stay friends.
Just friends.
Nothing else.