“You’re everywhere… except right here, and it hurts.” — Rupi Kaur
Things aren’t the same now —
not like they used to be.
You held me close,
like I was something fragile
you didn’t want to lose.
You spoke to me gently,
like I mattered.
You smiled in ways
that made me believe I did.
You knew the little things —
what I loved,
what I hated.
You noticed,
and that meant something.
At least, it did to me.
I can still remember it all —
too well.
It plays in my mind
like a scene stuck on repeat.
Some days it feels like yesterday,
some days it feels like it never ended.
And yet, it did.
Suddenly,
quietly —
without reason.
And I’m left with “why?”
A single word —
single question
echoing through a thousand thoughts.
There are questions I still can’t silence.
They rattle in my chest,
looking for answers that aren’t there.
They still keep me up some nights,
and it still hurts
how quiet it all became.
My world cracked open
the night I found out.
The pain —
it came fast,
and stayed.
I can still feel it,
like a shadow that never leaves —
like a nightmare I can’t escape.
Of all people —
why her?
Why the one person
I trusted with both of us?
My best friend.
Or was it always her?
After all the late-night talks,
the small laughs,
the way it felt
like time paused.
Was it ever real?
Or was I just
a lesson you needed to learn?
Something temporary?
Forgettable?
Silence.
No one answers.
Not even you.
Now, every night
feels like noise.
Like something’s breaking
inside me —
over and over.
And I hate it.
I hate how you made me feel.
I hate the sound of your voice,
not like how it used to calm me.
I hate the way you look at me now,
like nothing ever happened.
I hate how you forgot
the things I thought you’d never forget.
You’re different now.
Unfamiliar.
You’re not the person I knew.
Or maybe —
you never were.
You’re a stranger.
And the worst part is,
I still miss the version of you
that might’ve only existed
in my head.
