Again

I said I wouldn’t do this again, but the night keeps my secrets poorly and your name still fits in the quiet parts of my mouth I don’t miss you loudly. I miss you in habits, in the way my chest leans left when the bed forgets your weight. I loved you enough to leave and still— I’d undo it all if you asked gently Still— if you stood in my doorway tired and honest I’d mistake that for fate again. That’s the cruelest part not that you left but that I understand why and my heart doesn’t care It just wants what it remembers not what’s good. So I'll set this down before I say your name out loud, before I convince myself that missing you is the same as being loved. I’m okay...... in the way people learn to be when they stop asking for miracles. But if I’m honest— and this is me being honest— I’d still choose you over peace Again.