E is his name.....

I lost a boy not to death, but to distance, to silence dressed as peace. I lost him in the pause between replies, in the way his voice learned how to leave without saying goodbye. He was the only one who called me Ebube, said it like it was mine alone, like my name carried weight only he could hear. I think I loved him or maybe I loved the version of me that answered when he said it, that softened when he spoke, that felt seen in a single word. Now Ebube lingers in the air, unsaid, unanswered, a name waiting for a voice that won’t return. I grieve what never fully arrived, what almost chose me, what felt like home but never unpacked. And yet..... if love is the courage to feel deeply, then I was brave. Even in the losing.