My Love Language Is Leaving Quietly

I never slam the door.

I just stop knocking.

I don’t shout when I’m hurt.

I fold it into small silences

and tuck it beneath my breath.

I love in soft whispers,

but when I leave—

you won’t hear a sound.

No tears.

No last fights.

No asking you to stay.

Just—

shadows where my laughter used to sit.

I’ll take my toothbrush.

But leave the memory of brushing beside you.

I’ll pack my books.

But not the story we were still writing.

I’ll disappear from your world

like I was never part of it,

but in mine—

your name will echo in the hallways

for years.

Because my love language

was never words.

It was waiting.

It was enduring.

It was hoping you'd notice

what I never said.

And when you didn’t,

I left the way I arrived—

quietly.

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