Crawling back to you.

The street hums in its lonely way, pavement cracked like the promises we swore by. I step , I stop , I hesitate - but the road only ever curves back to you. I tell myself it's the last time, that my hands will not tremble at your door, that my name in your mouth will mean nothing, like a song forgotten mid-verse. But I knock anyway , and the silence that answers is heavier than your voice, louder than the closing of a door that was never open to begin with.