Sometimes I wonder, in this twisted life of ours,
if it’s just bad timing and you’re the one.
Maybe I’m just tangled in the fantasy I’ve spun,
a fragile dream that can’t be undone.
I wonder if it breaks you the way it breaks me,
each time you choose to leave.
If the silence cuts your chest the way it carves mine,
like a wound so deep it can’t be healed.
I wonder if you feel it too—
that aching truth,
the way your presence soothes,
even as it slips away.
I have learned to survive in your absences,
to stitch myself together with trembling hands,
threading hope through the seams of despair,
pretending the fabric will hold.
I have swallowed nights whole,
listening to the echo of your voice fading.
Teaching myself how to breathe again,
when the air feels too heavy to carry.
I wonder if you know what survival tastes like—
metal on the tongue,
salt in the throat,
the body remembering hunger even when it’s fed.
Because every time you vanish,
I become my own shelter,
my own fire,
my own prayer whispered into the dark.
And still, I wait.
Still, I ache.
Still, I believe in the possibility of us,
even when that belief is betrayal.
Sometimes I wonder if love is meant to be this cruel,
if timing is the thief of joy,
or if the universe laughs at the way we reach for each other,
only to fall through empty air.
Yet when you return,
even for a moment,
the storm inside me quiets.
A fleeting mercy.
