What We Left Unsaid

I still remember

how quiet the room became

when we stopped trying to fix it.

No shouting,

no slammed doors—

just the sound of two people

running out of reasons to stay.

You looked at me like a stranger

wearing my favorite memories.

I looked at you

and saw the version of us

that almost made it.

We kept our promises on the table,

but neither of us reached for them.

Maybe we were tired

of being almost enough.

You smiled,

and for a second

it felt like hope—

but it was only habit.

Love didn’t die that day;

it simply folded itself

into the corners of our silence,

waiting for someone brave enough

to say the last word.

Now, every time I think of you,

I whisper the things

we left unsaid—

and hope they find you

somewhere you finally stayed.