Last Name

My heart aches in silence for a love he'll never return. His chest holds no echo of me, but mine still carries the weight of him, heavy life a storm I cannot outrun.

I remember the mornings we shared, waking to each others laughter, spilling like sunlight over the floor the way his hand fit in mine like it had always belonged there.

But love, I learned, can be cruel. He became a shadow walking through my life, blind to the depth of me, unmoved by all the pieces I gave him. I whispered his name to empty rooms, traced his face in memory, like fragile glass I couldn't hold.

Even now, I feel him in the spaces between my breaths, in the hollow echo of promises he never kept. I will always love him through his last name, through thr thorns of ever year that pressed against my chest, through the ache that teaches me who I am without him.

And though he walks free, untouched by the weight I carry, I hold him in quiet reverence not in hope, not in anger, but in the sacred ache of a love that was mine, once, and will always be.

His last name will forever be mine. I earned it through all his lies that cut like knives and betrayal that hollowed me out, through nights of anxiety that stole my sleep, through twisted manipulation that carved me open. Every scar, every sleepless hour, every whispered torment I survived it all, and his name is stitched into a marrow of me.

I earned his name through every tear I swallowed, through every scream I locked inside, through every trembling step I took towards survival. It is mine to remember mine to carry, mine to rise from.

It clung to me in every argument, every threat disguised as affection, every excuse he offered that was never enough. I felt it in the way my own heart beat faster in fear, in longing, in confusion. I felt it in the nights I questioned myself, in the mornings I forced my eyes open, in the quiet moments I wondered if I would ever feel safe again.

It will linger in my blood, etched in my bones, a monument to the love that tried to break me, and the strength I found in the refusing to crumble. I will hold it, not as a curse, but as proof: I lived, I survived, and even in the ashes, his name is mine forever, unshakable, unforgettable.

I carry it now with pride, not as a trophy of pain, but as a testament of survival. Through lies, infidelity, anxiety, depression, manipulation, and being played: I am here. Putting myself back together. I am alive. And his name, forever mine, will whisper the story of a love that ended, but a life that continues, stronger, fiercer, unstainable.

No one will ever take his name from me, not even another fake romance. I am the original, the first to suffer at his hands, and the first to rise, unbroken, owning every fragment of what was mine.

I hold his name like fire in my hands, pain turned power, loss turned wisdom, betrayal turned into strength.

His name is mine. And I will not let it go.