Time out ref

Time out, ref— please, just stop the game. My chest is burning, my eyes are drowning in his name. I really don’t want to lose him, not after all the storms we survived, not after I built my whole heart around the way his voice felt alive. But you already lost him— that cruel truth won’t stay quiet. It echoes in the spaces where his laughter used to riot. I keep replaying our last goodbye, like maybe if I scream “wait!” he’ll turn around, smile again, and rewrite our fate. Time out, ref— I’m begging, trembling, breaking. He’s not just someone I loved, he’s the piece of me now aching. How do I breathe when every inhale tastes like him? How do I move on when every road grows dim? You already lost him— yeah, I know, I know… But my heart refuses to hear it, it still beats where he won’t go. So blow the whistle, end the pain, let the silence take what’s left of me. Time out, ref— I’m done pretending I’m okay with losing what we used to be.