Like Seasons Do

We started like spring, soft words blooming between us, days drenched in the color of newness, like we had discovered the sun for the first time. He reached for my hand like it held answers— and I, believing in forever, gave him every part of my sky. But time turned quiet. The warmth we knew slipped into autumn, where words fell like leaves, and silence grew roots between us. He stayed, but not really. And I smiled, but not fully. We spoke of friendship when hearts still ached too loudly. I never hated the love— just the way it unraveled, slowly, like a thread pulled gently from the edge of a favorite sweater. Still… I don’t regret it. Some stories don’t last forever— but they teach you the rhythm of letting go, the grace of loving yourself more deeply than anyone else ever did.