Left on Read

There’s a space between your words

and the way you look away—

a silence that speaks louder

than any promise you could make.

I hold onto memories

like fragile glass in trembling hands,

hoping for a message,

a sign,

a reason to stay.

But the night grows longer

and your shadow fades

from the places we once called ours.

Love,

I have learned,

does not always mean

being chosen in return.

So I gather the pieces

of what could have been,

and walk forward—

alone,

but still loving.