He Promised Forever, Then Left

He found me
when I wasn’t looking.

A quiet smile,
a soft voice
that wrapped
around my loneliness
like sunlight
on a cold wall.

He said my name
like it mattered,
like it had
never been
an afterthought before.

We walked roads
that felt endless,
laughing at skies
that once made me cry.

He held my hand
like he would never
let go.

He promised.
Forever.

And I believed.
Oh, I believed
with everything
I had left.

I opened my chest
and handed him
my heart—
no armor,
no mask,
just me.
Raw.
Real.
Ready.

But forever
was shorter
than I thought.

He left.
No reason.
No war.
Just…
emptiness
where his voice
used to live.

I waited
for an explanation.
It never came.

I searched
for the version of me
I gave to him—
but she was gone,
still standing
in the place
where he said goodbye.

Now I write poems
he’ll never read,
about nights
he’ll never regret,
about love
that felt like magic
but turned into
a ghost.

I don’t hate him.
But I ache.

Because some endings
don’t break you—
they hollow you,
slowly,
silently,
until you
don’t know
if you were ever
loved at all.