My heart in metaphors

You are important to me— no, let me say it straight— you were the axis on which my whole sky spun.

When your name lit up my screen, I dropped my own name, forgot my body, my breath, my needs.

I gave when I had nothing. Not just coins or time, but pieces of spirit I never got back.

Now I try to peel you off my skin like old wallpaper— still stuck in corners, still clinging in patterns only I remember.

I try to make space for something else to grow, try not to wonder what your silence means, try not to read your absence like scripture.

I didn’t reply to your last message. Do you know the war that raged inside that choice? Do you know how many drafts I wrote just to delete?

You wrote like it was Tuesday, not a month since you vanished. As if love were something you could pause. As if my heart were just a blinking cursor waiting.

But I—I was a message you had to be in the mood for. Something to read when the world got boring.

So I try now. Try to forget how I ranked at the bottom of your list while you sat on the highest rung of mine.

I try not to cry when I succeed, because even letting go of you feels like losing the last part of myself that still believes I can be worth loving.