The Monster You Became

I learned a hundred small spells just to open the air between us- harmless words, light enough not to summon anything dangerous.

There is a name I dare not speak. It carries a weight and expected echo. The start does not matter, by the end you had changed your skin. Not suddenly but slowly, the way legends say it happens: One kindness misplaced, one silence fed too long. I didn't see the teeth until they were already part of your smile. I can still see your dimples and hear your voice speaking to me in the night as I lay awake haunted by the memory of the monster I can not escape from. Still, I reached for you, carefully as if I were leaving offerings at the edge of a forest everyone else warned me about.

You promised me yet you never answered. You only watched- a dangerous shape behind the trees, close enough to know my habits but far enough to stay untouched.

I tell myself, I do not miss you. I miss the version of the world where you hadn't learned how to survive by distance.

But Memory is a trickster. It forgets the ending, you said I made you hurt me- as if the wound were a task I assigned as if the monster needed permission to feed. That was when I learned even kindness can be rewritten into blame. It is easier to remember the human and not the dark deeds. My body constantly follows the older map, calling out for him to return even when it knows better.

Sometimes, when the night thins, your ghost leans close and says: "hey I love you, you will always be safe with me."

It has been the hardest spell to break.