𝔰𝔦𝔩𝔢𝔫𝔱 𝔰𝔬𝔲𝔩

I don’t know if you’ll ever read this.

Maybe it doesn’t matter anymore.

Maybe it’s just something my heart needs to say somewhere other than inside my own mind.

I loved you in a way that felt like home after years of being lost.

I loved you in the quiet moments, the stupid laughs, the nights we fell asleep next to each other when everything felt safe for once in my life.

I loved the version of you that looked at me like I wasn’t hard to love.

Maybe that’s the part that hurts the most now—

that you stopped looking at me with the eyes that once saw me.

I’m still learning to breathe without the idea of you.

Still unlearning the way I made you my anchor,

still trying to understand how something that felt so real

can disappear in a matter of days, months, moments.

But loving you wasn’t a waste.

Not even close.

You taught me things about myself I didn’t know

—

the softness I thought I had lost,

the depth of my heart even after everything I’ve been through.

You will always be a chapter I read again.

And I hope, in some quiet corner of your life,

you remember that there was once someone who loved you so fiercely

it almost burned through her.