(each entry unsigned, some bleed into each other)
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[Page 1]
Today I thought I saw you — not you now, but you then.
You crossed the street inside my pulse.
I forgot how to breathe like I used to forget birthdays:
deliberately, quietly, hoping no one would notice.
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[Page 2]
Sometimes I think you were just a bad signal between two better lives.
And sometimes I think you were the real thing, and everything after was counterfeit.
I don’t know which truth feels heavier.
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[Page 3]
Do you remember the night we invented silence between us?
I held it in my palms like a drowning bird.
You looked away.
Maybe that was the first crime.
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[Page 4]
I kept the letters I never sent you.
They smell like old rain now.
Somewhere inside them, I asked you to stay.
You never heard me.
I never said it loud enough.
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[Page 5]
I loved you in lowercase.
Small, clumsy, half-pronounced.
You wanted capitals, exclamations, neon signs.
I didn’t know how to shout love without sounding like a scream.
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[Page 6]
Last week I found the jacket you left behind.
I buried my face in the lining and waited for the apology you never gave.
It smelled like your almost.
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[Page 7]
There was no villain.
Only two cowards disguised as careful people.
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[Page 8]
I think about parallel worlds sometimes.
The ones where I said the thing I choked on.
The ones where you stayed just long enough to hear it.
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[Page 9]
They warned me about sharp things —
but no one ever warned me how your tenderness could carve me open.
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[Page 10]
Once, you kissed me like I was a question you were afraid to answer.
I became a question that answered itself anyway:
No.
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[Page 11]
I named stars after you,
but the sky didn’t recognize my handwriting.
They blinked once, and forgot.
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[Page 12]
Forgiveness isn’t the hardest part.
It’s that stupid, bleeding hope that someday you’ll understand without needing me to explain.
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[Page 13]
Sometimes I still fold my hands wrong when I pray.
As if my fingers are reaching for yours instead of heaven.
---
[Page 14]
Maybe you loved me too, once, in your own broken grammar.
Maybe I just needed a dictionary you never wrote.
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[Page 15]
If you read this —
if you find this —
know that I buried nothing.
I carried it all.
I am still carrying it.
---
[Page 16]
You never noticed,
but I said goodbye every time you walked away,
even when you were just going to get coffee.
I knew.
I knew long before you did.
---
[Page 17]
We were never tragedy,
never romance,
not even story—
just
almost.
just
barely.
just
a paper boat
in a storm
that never
ended.
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[Page 18]
Tonight I dreamed you wore my favorite regret.
It fit you better than any memory ever did.
You smiled, and the sky folded itself into origami sorrow.
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[Page 19]
I used to think love was a fire.
Now I know:
It’s a tide that takes without asking
and leaves seashells that whisper nothing when held.
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[Page 20]
Once, I almost called you.
Just to hear how absence sounds at the other end of a dial tone.
Just to prove you still had a voice.
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[Page 21]
You built walls with your silences.
I decorated them with poems
you never stayed long enough to read.
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[Page 22]
The last thing you gave me was a memory
with no photograph to prove it was real.
I keep trying to sketch it, but the colors run.
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[Page 23]
I think some people are meteors:
brilliant, burning,
meant to leave before they ruin the sky.
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[Page 24]
Today I found an old voicemail.
You laughing, talking about weather,
about nothing.
I played it twice,
then deleted it,
then regretted both.
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[Page 25]
I wonder sometimes if you remember the small things:
the streetlight we met under,
the cracked mug you hated,
the way I always flinched before I smiled.
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[Page 26]
Love was the thing we rehearsed but never performed.
We were dress rehearsals of goodbye,
every embrace an almost-apology.
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[Page 27]
You once said forever without blinking.
I blinked.
I never stopped blinking.
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[Page 28]
Maybe we mistook timing for fate.
Maybe we thought broken clocks were prophecies.
Maybe we were just bad luck in pretty wrapping paper.
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[Page 29]
If I could rewrite us,
I’d write quieter hands, slower mornings,
a language that doesn’t need hurting to feel real.
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[Page 30]
I never hated you.
Even when I learned new definitions of lonely with your name tattooed inside them.
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[Page 31]
Today I crossed the street without looking.
I thought maybe if I stopped caring about the direction,
I’d find you walking toward me anyway.
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[Page 32]
But maybe this is the truest ending:
not with a scream,
not with a silence,
not even with a sigh—
just a quiet undoing,
an unraveling thread
neither of us remembered stitching in the first place.
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(End of Fragments — though some doors are never fully closed.)
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#Poetry #LoveAndLoss #Metaphoric #UnfinishedStories #MemoryFragments #Heartbreak #Intimate #Lover’sGoodbye #LoveLetters #FragmentsOfUs #Emotional #ParallelWorlds #Collection #Loss #Surreal
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