It has always been a cycle.

It has always been a cycle— I give my all, only to circle back to the same quiet ache. Tell me, how do you forget someone who gave you so much to remember? Who made you believe that loving you wasn’t a burden but a blessing in bloom? How do you forget the one who made your heart feel things it never knew it could hold? Perhaps… there is no forgetting. Perhaps I was never meant to. Or maybe— deep down, I never wanted to. How does a man whose arms once felt like home become the ghost that steals your sleep? This grief— a storm in my chest, twisting my breath into silence. I just wish you had been a better man. Maybe then, none of this would hurt so much. Maybe I wouldn't be left asking, aching, mourning someone who’s still breathing. Maybe I wouldn’t be looking for traces of you in the faces of strangers.