MidniteTears🌻

It's still so hard to believe

Come back baby please

'Cause we belong together

Who else am I gon' lean on when times get rough?

Who's going to talk to me on

The phone 'til the sun comes up?

Who's going to take your place?

There ain't nobody better

Oh, baby baby, we belong together

I can't sleep at night, when you're on my mind

Bobby Womack's on the radio

Saying to me, "If you think you're lonely now"

Wait a minute this is too deep (too deep)

I gotta change the station

So I turn the dial trying to catch a break

And then I hear Babyface

I only think of you

And it's breaking my heart

I'm trying to keep it together but I'm falling apart

We Belong Together - Mariah Carey

I can’t wait to meet you

to hear your voice

for the very first time,

to finally look into the eyes

I’ve spent so long imagining.

I wonder what they’ll look like,

those eyes that will become

my favorite place in the world

a place I’ll get lost in

every time they meet mine,

a place where love will quietly grow

without me even noticing.

And your voice

I imagine it becoming

the sound of my peace,

the comfort I reach for

at the end of difficult days,

the melody that makes

everything feel a little softer.

Sometimes I picture us

lying side by side,

my head resting against your shoulder,

the world finally quiet around us.

The gentle warmth of your presence,

the easy conversation,

the feeling of belonging

without having to say a word.

I imagine falling asleep

to the sound of your voice,

feeling safe,

feeling home,

and waking to a whispered

“good morning”

carried gently through the dawn.

Maybe my heart has read

too many romance novels,

watched too many movies,

and built entire worlds from hope.

But if love like that exists,

if moments like that are waiting,

then I look forward to them.

And someday,

maybe,

I’ll finally meet you. ❤️

Dreaming of you is a strange kind of pain.

It breaks me apart,

yet somehow it comforts me too.

Because in those quiet hours,

when my eyes finally close,

you still exist in my world.

Not beside me,

not in the way I once wished,

but in the place where you never truly left

my dreams.

There, we are still us.

Our story never ended.

The chapters keep turning,

the conversations continue,

and for a little while

love is allowed to live again.

I don’t know if that’s healing me

or hurting me even more.

Maybe it’s both.

Maybe that’s what grief becomes

finding comfort

in the very thing that wounds you.

Either way,

this is the life I have now.

Learning how to keep moving forward

while carrying memories of your existence,

of your laughter,

of your love,

of everything we once were.

And though this endless loop

often leaves me aching,

it has taught me things too.

It forced me to look at myself,

to see what I couldn’t see before.

It opened my eyes

where they were once closed.

It showed me truths

I spent too long avoiding.

I don’t know if I’ll ever love again.

Maybe I will.

Maybe I won’t.

The future remains unwritten.

But what I know for certain

is that I loved you

with everything I had.

With every piece of my heart,

every hope,

every dream.

And whether that’s a blessing

or a burden now,

I cannot say.

But one thing remains true:

I may love again someday,

yet I will never love

the way I loved you.

Because some loves arrive only once,

leave their mark forever,

and change the shape of a heart

long after they’re gone.

When you lose the one you truly love,

you begin to question everything.

Was it real love

if it could walk away so easily?

If forever could unravel

in a single goodbye?

It wasn’t the first time you left,

but this time I knew.

This time there was no return,

no second chance waiting on the horizon,

no familiar footsteps finding their way back to me.

And that knowing became an anchor.

It dragged me beneath the surface,

pulling me down faster than I could fight,

my hands reaching desperately for air,

for hope,

for anything that might save me.

But I never reached the surface.

I sank.

Deeper and deeper

into an ocean of memories,

until I found myself resting

on the cold floor of grief

empty,

hollow,

haunted by the love I could not keep.

I loved you completely,

and somehow that love became the thing

that hurts the most.

Now I spend my days reliving that moment,

replaying the ending again and again,

as if repetition could rewrite it,

as if one day I’d wake up

and discover none of it happened.

That I never lost you.

That we were stronger than ever,

still building the future we once imagined.

But reality always returns.

It crashes over me like a wave,

merciless and sharp,

tearing through my chest

and stealing my breath all over again.

And I wonder

why am I trapped in this endless loop

of our ending?

Why do I still dream of you

as though we belong to each other?

Why does my heart keep creating a world

where you’re still here,

only for morning to arrive

and remind me

that the person I reach for in my dreams

is the same person whose absence

I wake up carrying every day?

You were the one who said

that if we ever ended,

you’d walk past me

like I was nothing.

And now you have.

So tell me

why are you worried about me now?

Why do you keep searching for answers about me

when the day I was breaking apart,

crying for you,

you had already let go?

You made your choice,

and it wasn’t me anymore.

While I was drowning in grief,

you were untouched by it.

You were done.

You walked away.

Ever since you left,

everything inside me collapsed.

I became angry at the world,

at people,

at life itself.

I wanted nothing but isolation.

Some nights I cried so hard

I couldn’t breathe,

gasping for air

like heartbreak had wrapped its hands around my lungs.

And still,

here I am

alone.

A year and a few months later,

still carrying the weight of you

like you never truly left me.

You make accusations about me now,

stories you created in your own mind,

thinking I’ve moved on,

thinking I ran back to exs

or replaced you somehow.

But the truth is painfully simple:

I haven’t loved anyone since you.

I’ve spent every day

trying to heal from the damage

our ending left behind.

And even now,

I still cry myself to sleep sometimes,

still wake up with swollen eyes

mourning someone

who no longer exists in my world.

I wanted to reach out to you

more times than you’ll ever know.

But I stopped myself

because you were the one who walked away.

You had enough of us,

of me.

And maybe one day,

like you once said,

our paths could cross again.

Maybe somehow

we could find each other once more.

But truthfully?

I don’t think I could survive loving you twice,

meaning I don’t think I could survive loosing you again…

Because even now,

with all this love I still carry for you,

I know I would spend every single day terrified

that you’d leave again.

And that fear would haunt me forever.

To have the one you love back in your life but terrified that when they had enough,

That’s it - you’d walk out again .

You meant more to me

than you ever realized.

After our very first date,

I told myself you were it

my last love,

my forever person.

But forever ended too soon.

Now you’re gone,

and I don’t know if I’ll ever fully heal from you.

I don’t know if I’ll ever love the same again,

or if my heart will ever trust enough to try.

When you left,

you took a part of me with you.

And I’m not sure

that missing piece will ever come back.

But that’s okay.

Maybe some people leave behind emptiness

that never fully disappears.

Still…

despite all the pain,

thank you.

Thank you for loving me,

for showing me the kind of love

I had always dreamed of finding,

even if It wasn’t mine to keep.

Thank you for it all .

Somehow

you still live in my mind

like you never left,

like my heart never learned

how to exist without you.

And it hurts.

God, it hurts

carrying the memories of you,

the sound of your voice,

the way we once felt so certain

we’d never become strangers.

I’m still torn apart

by the way it ended,

by how you walked away

while I stood there

still trying to hold onto us.

I’ve seen your posts,

the ones where you say

you didn’t want to leave,

that you “had no choice.”

But you did have a choice.

And for whatever reason,

it just wasn’t me anymore.

I don’t hate you for that.

I don’t hold anger in my chest

when I think of you.

Just sadness.

Just the ache of loving someone

who couldn’t stay.

Because I truly believed

there would never be an end to us.

Seven years

isn’t something you simply erase.

It’s years of memories,

late nights,

inside jokes,

plans for a future

that now only exists in pieces inside my head.

I never took you for granted.

Not once.

If anything,

I was grateful every single day

because you gave me a kind of love

I always dreamed about

but never thought I deserved.

You showed me

that love like that could actually be real.

And maybe that’s why losing you

feels like losing a part of myself.

It’s been a year now,

and I’m still here

trying to survive the silence you left behind.

Still single.

Still unable to picture myself

giving my heart to someone else.

Not now.

Not even a year from now.

Because you changed me.

You left a hole so deep

that nothing can fill it overnight.

Healing from you

feels like something that will take years,

and loving someone after you

might take even longer.

Because my heart

won’t be handed over so easily again.

I won’t settle

just to avoid being lonely.

I just wish

the pain would stop.

I wish I could sleep

without waking up missing you.

I wish I could go a few nights

without tears finding me again.

You’re gone

and somehow

you still haunt me

like love never truly left,

only changed into grief.

Somewhere inside me

hope still flickers,

small and stubborn,

but I already know

it was never meant to stay.

I had my chance at love,

the kind people spend lifetimes dreaming of,

the kind I held so carefully

until somehow

it slipped through my hands.

Now I write poems

to a future that will never arrive,

letters to a person

I don’t think I’ll ever meet.

I say things like

“if our paths ever cross,”

while knowing deep down

those roads were never made for me.

Because I already found

the love I wanted forever with,

and in the blink of an eye

I lost everything.

So this is the path

I try to learn to live with,

carrying your absence

like a weight stitched into my chest.

I want to love again.

I want to be loved.

But every time I try to imagine it,

your name rises first

like a ghost I cannot silence.

I tell myself you’re gone,

tell myself I’m healing,

tell myself I’m finally okay.

But I’m not.

Because healing shouldn’t feel

like breaking all over again

every time I see two people

holding hands,

laughing softly,

loving each other

the way I once loved you.

And maybe that’s the cruelest part

the world keeps moving

like love still exists for everyone else,

while I stand still

in the ruins of us.

Most of my poems

still begin with you.

A year and five months

have passed since you left,

yet somehow

you still live

in the quiet corners of my mind.

Sometimes

I still dream of us

of laughter,

of late nights,

of the version of forever

we once believed in.

And then morning comes.

I wake up aching again,

lost again,

like my heart never learned

how to survive your absence.

Maybe this was always

how our story was meant to end

with one person staying

while the other walks away.

I’ve never known heartbreak

could feel this heavy.

To finally find someone

you wanted to love forever,

only to watch them disappear

in the blink of an eye.

Everything shattered after that.

Breathing became difficult,

like drowning while still alive,

reaching for air

that never comes.

We weren’t perfect.

I wasn’t perfect either.

We had flaws,

we had storms,

we had wounds

we didn’t know how to heal.

But when we were good,

when we stood on solid ground,

our connection felt unshakable.

Until it wasn’t.

Everyone has a breaking point,

and eventually

you reached yours with me.

No words could change your mind.

No apology could rebuild

what had already fallen apart.

So all I can say now is this:

I’m sorry

for the things I failed to say,

for the love I didn’t show properly,

for the moments I should have held closer

before they slipped away.

You can tell the world

whatever version of me you carry.

I won’t fight it anymore.

Because despite everything,

despite the hurt,

despite the emptiness you left behind,

I still wish you nothing but peace.

I hope one day

you find the beautiful life

you always dreamed about.

And I hope the person beside you

loves you gently,

completely,

in all the ways

I wish I knew how.

Every night

I close my eyes

and somehow

there you are again.

In my dreams

you still smile at me

like nothing ever broke,

like love never slipped

through our hands.

The dream feels warm,

safe,

like coming home

to a place I still ache for.

For a moment

I forget you left.

For a moment

you are still mine.

But morning is cruel.

I wake up shattered,

reaching for someone

who no longer exists

in my world.

And the silence beside me

feels louder

than any goodbye.

Why do I still dream of you?

Why does my heart

keep replaying memories

of someone

who walked away?

You told me

there was nothing left

to say,

nothing left

to do.

And just like that,

that was the end.

But I never imagined

there would be an end to us.

We survived so many storms,

so many nights

of almost falling apart,

because our connection

always pulled us back together.

Until one day

that connection faded,

and somewhere in the distance

I lost you.

Now sleep feels like torture.

Because every dream

lets me hold you again

only to rip you away

the moment I wake.

And each morning

I have to relearn

the same painful truth:

you’re gone,

and I still don’t know

how to stop loving you.

Some nights

the silence feels louder than anything,

and the tears come before you even realize

you’re thinking of them again.

You replay the ending

like a wound you keep touching,

hoping somehow

it will hurt less this time.

But it doesn’t.

It hurts in the way losing air hurts,

like your chest forgets how to breathe

the moment you remember

they’re gone.

The person you pictured forever with

became a memory

in a single moment,

and ever since then

everything feels like it’s been falling.

You start believing

maybe that was your only chance at love,

that maybe love came once,

held your hand gently,

and then walked away

without looking back.

And now you sit with the ache of it,

wondering how to move on

when your heart still lives

in the last day you had together.

You revisit that goodbye

over and over,

as if changing the memory

could somehow change the ending.

But it stays the same.

They leave.

You break.

And the world keeps moving

like nothing happened.

That’s the cruel part.

Wanting love

while being terrified of it.

Wanting someone to hold you

while wanting everyone far away.

You crave connection

but fear abandonment.

You want to love again

but your hands still shake

from the last time

you gave someone everything

and they let it fall to the ground.

So now you stand

between loneliness and healing,

between missing them

and trying to survive them,

between wanting to be alone

and desperately wishing

someone would stay.

And maybe that’s what heartbreak really is

not just losing a person,

but losing the version of yourself

that believed love would stay.

I don’t want to replace you

with another name,

another set of hands

that was never the point.

I just want to move on

from the weight of you,

from the quiet ache

your absence stitched into me.

I’m tired of midnight battles

where tears win every time,

of waking up shattered

from dreams that still feel like us.

You’re gone

and somehow still everywhere,

lingering in the silence

like a ghost I can’t outrun.

We were never perfect,

I know that now.

But when we were good,

we were everything.

I’d get angry

at your words,

your silence,

the things you did

and didn’t do

but my heart never held it long,

it always folded back into you.

And now time has passed,

yet I’m still here,

holding onto something

that no longer exists.

I don’t want this anymore.

I don’t want to cry myself to sleep

over someone who’s already gone.

I don’t want to carry

what you left behind in me.

I just want peace

a quiet kind of healing

where your name

doesn’t echo in my chest,

where your absence

no longer feels like loss.

That’s what I mean

when I say I want to move on

not to someone else,

but away

from this heartache,

away

from the shadow of you.

I used to love the ocean

the way it breathed in waves,

the hush, the crash,

the rhythm that felt like peace.

I would stand there for hours,

letting the sound of the shore

quiet everything inside me.

But now

the sea reminds me of you.

Because the last time I saw you,

the waves were breaking in front of us

as you stood,

as you chose distance,

as you walked away

without looking back.

And ever since,

the ocean has not sounded the same.

Now every crash feels too loud,

like my chest trying to hold

what it can’t carry.

Every wave pulls me under

that moment

the one where everything sank

and never came back up.

It still hurts

like it just happened yesterday.

Like time forgot to move forward

and left me standing there

on that same shore.

Some nights it’s worse

when the silence grows heavy

and your absence gets louder.

The tears don’t ask permission,

they just fall,

again and again,

until exhaustion is the only mercy left.

You’re not the only one who hurt.

I loved you

I still do.

Maybe that’s why

letting go feels like breaking something

that’s already in pieces.

Because even now,

I want you to be happy.

I want you to be loved

in ways I couldn’t hold onto.

And I want that too

a love that stays.

But I’m still here,

learning how to loosen my grip

on someone who is already gone…

even when it feels like

I’m the only one still holding on.

I don’t dream of fancy cars,

or echoing rooms

inside a house too big to feel.

I’m not searching for luxury

I’m searching for a home.

Something small,

warm with quiet laughter,

soft with the feeling of us.

A place we build together,

piece by piece,

turning ordinary walls

into something that knows our names.

You don’t have to bring

expensive flowers home

no grand gestures,

no polished perfection.

Just a single bloom

picked from the side of the road,

held out with a shy smile

that would mean everything to me.

Because it’s never been about things.

It’s you.

Your love,

honest and unfiltered,

filling the spaces in me

I didn’t know were empty.

Your arms around me

that’s my safe place,

my quiet shelter

from everything the world can be.

And every time you leave,

I’ll whisper a silent prayer

not for riches,

not for more

just that you find your way

back through the door

safe…

to me.

I can’t wait

to build a life with you,

to walk through every season

the easy, the heavy, the real.

And when we finally meet,

when time stops pretending

and gives you to me

I hope you don’t mind

if I hold you

a little longer,

a little tighter…

It’s just

I’ve been waiting for you

for so long.

To the one I haven’t met yet,

the one time is quietly carrying toward me

I already see us

in a warm-lit kitchen,

your laughter filling the space

while I pretend to focus

on dinner that keeps burning

because I’m too busy watching you.

Midnight will turn into morning

over pancakes and off-key singing,

our favorite songs spilling

between smiles and soft glances,

the kind of joy that feels

both playful and permanent.

I want all of it

the loud, the quiet,

the chaos, the calm.

The days that test us,

the nights that hold us together

when the world feels heavy.

If you fall sick,

I’ll be there

steady hands, quiet care,

loving you in ways

that don’t need words.

And I hope

somewhere in your heart

you love sweet things,

maybe Italian meals,

and milkshakes by the ocean

as the sun melts into the horizon.

(For the record…

mine’s banana.)

I imagine us there,

side by side,

letting time slow down

just enough

to feel like forever.

But if somehow

our paths never cross,

if you remain a dream

I never get to hold

that’s okay too.

Because the thought of you,

the possibility of us,

has already given me something real

a reason to believe

that love like this

could exist.

Since you walked out,

I’ve stood on my own

not reaching for the next pair of hands,

not chasing a love that comes in shifts

and leaves before morning.

I’m not built for part-time hearts,

for borrowed warmth

or temporary names on my lips.

I want the kind of love

that doesn’t ask when it will end.

I don’t want a touch

unless it lingers for a lifetime,

don’t want a kiss

unless it’s mine to return forever.

I don’t want bodies intertwined

only for the night

I want you beside me

every time I close my eyes,

and every morning I awake.

I am searching,

not for moments to fill the silence,

but for something that stays.

Not dates to pass the time,

but a partner

who becomes time itself.

Not perfect,

but perfectly imperfect together.

Where what I lack, you carry,

and what you need, I give.

A quiet completeness

that feels like home.

I’m not here for pieces of love,

I’m waiting for the whole of it,

a lifetime, not fragments.

So I’ll stay right here,

steady, unshaken.

I won’t wander from one to another,

won’t lower what I believe in

for something that passes through.

No matter how long it takes,

you will be worth the wait.

And even if our paths

never cross

I will still choose this kind of love,

over anything less.

To my future person…

I hope you love the rain

the way I do,

not just the soft kind,

but the wild, restless storms,

where thunder speaks in the dark

and lightning writes across the sky.

As we open the window

just enough to let the night in,

the cool air brushing against us

as we lie tangled together,

silent… but saying everything.

A single candle flickers,

painting warmth across your face,

while we drift closer

nose to nose,

forehead to forehead,

breathing the same quiet moment.

Your lips find mine,

soft, unhurried,

like time has nowhere else to be.

But here, with you and I.

And as the rain keeps falling,

steady, endless,

we fall too

into sleep,

into each other,

into something that feels like home.

When I close my eyes,

you feel real

like gravity pulling me in,

your arms finding me

as if they’ve always known the way.

Your hands rest on my waist,

steady, certain,

while your lips linger

at the corner of my shoulder

soft kisses that unravel me,

piece by piece.

My face sinks into your chest,

where your heartbeat lives

and I press my lips there gently,

as if I could learn you

through rhythm alone.

You’re so close

I can almost breathe you in,

memorize the quiet language

of your scent,

like something I’ve known

in another lifetime.

It’s strange

to miss someone

I’ve never met,

to feel something so real

for someone

I don’t even know exists.

And yet,

in the dark behind my eyes,

you are there

not imagined,

but felt.

Hope wraps around me

like your arms would,

tight enough to believe

it could happen

at any moment

but it never does.

So I drift to sleep,

because that’s where you live

for now

in dreams that hold you

just long enough

before morning takes you away.

And tonight,

I wish sleep would stay longer

just so I could stay with you

a little while more.