the unwritten goodbye.

I can't call it love, but it felt close enough a soft pull, an almost, a maybe that left its mark like a quiet scar. Not quite yours, not quite mine, but somewhere in the middle, we held on. No promises, no strings, just late-night talks that danced on the edge of something real. And now, the silence stings, an empty space where you used to be, where we used to be. I lost what was never fully mine, a ghost of something that could’ve been, but wasn’t. And it hurts just the same. No closure, no ending, just the weight of what we never said. I can’t mourn us out loud, can't grieve what we never called love, but my heart aches, quietly, for the almost that slipped away.