Words

Reading those words again
cuts deeper than before—
a quiet blade
pressing, piercing, repeating,
where healing never quite began.

“I don’t want to lose you again,”
You said,
and somehow
Those words shattered louder
than silence ever could.

The moment you stopped caring
fell like an avalanche—
sudden, crushing,
burying everything
I thought we were.

You promised no more hurt,
no more her,
no more lies wrapped in comfort—
Yet here I stand,
empty-handed,
while you’re already gone.

The one I was told not to fear,
the one I trusted,
became the place you ran to—
And I wonder
If your hands fit together now
the way ours used to.

We were once
too much for each other,
Now I’m nothing
And she is everything.

You said it would never happen again—
funny how promises
fade faster than feelings.

She said she’d be there for me,
stood close enough
to see my heart still reaching for you,
and still—
She took you anyway.

You broke me
in the same places
over and over,
and still
I came back—
because love made me blind
to the damage.

But now,
There’s nothing.

No tears,
no fire,
just quiet numbness
where love used to live.

Were your words ever real?
Or just echoes
meant to keep me close?

I gave you everything—
every piece,
every breath,
every fragile hope—
and still,
a part of me lingers.

But not the same.

Never the same.

Because now,
your words—
the ones I once held onto—
feel like knives
I finally learned
not to catch.