It Was Always You

I never said your name, but I think you knew from the way I wrote how it always led to you. From the poems on my story that I played off as nothing, to the way I stayed quiet when it started meaning something. You love Spider-Man, I don’t think I ever missed that, every small thing you said I kept it, I meant that. We had those calls where everything would flow, no thinking, no forcing, just letting it go. Then somehow it changed, and I felt it shift, like I was still holding on to something that slipped. If I didn’t text first, we wouldn’t even speak, and that kind of silence says more than you think. So I stepped back slowly, told myself it was fine, but distance just proved what I feared in my mind. And maybe I fumbled, maybe I never showed, how much I actually cared, how deep it all goes. But everything I wrote, every line, every view it wasn’t “just poems” it was always you.