Almost ten months—
just three days away.
A year—
only sixty-four breaths from now.
Time kept building something sacred
while I stood inside it
like it would never fall.
Four years
of my heart choosing you
in quiet ways,
in unnoticed moments,
in every small, soft corner
I didn't realize
you had already filled.
And still—
I was careless.
Careless with your trust,
with your love,
with the way you held me
like I was something
worth protecting.
I didn't see
how rare you were
while I had you.
I didn't carry your heart
the way you carried mine.
And now I'm left
counting everything
I should have cherished
while it was still mine.
You—
who stayed
when I was at my lowest,
who loved me
through every version of myself
I didn't even understand.
You—
soft in all the right ways,
strong in the ones that mattered,
beautiful in a way
that had nothing to do
with the outside
and everything to do
with your soul.
I told myself
you would always be there.
And that was my mistake.
Because now
I feel the absence of you
in everything—
in silence
where your laugh used to live,
in emptiness
where your arms used to hold me,
in the spaces
where your voice
once felt like home.
I didn't love you
for what you gave me—
I loved you
because you were you.
I asked God for you
before I ever had you,
and now I find myself
praying again—
not for someone new,
but for you,
for us,
for one more chance
to do it right.
Because I remember you
in pieces that won't leave me—
your smile
that reached your eyes,
your laugh
that felt like music,
your presence
that made everything
feel softer,
safer.
And if I could choose
one thing
to keep forever,
it would be you
exactly as you are—
your voice,
your laugh,
your eyes
that held so much light
I never learned
how to deserve it.
Now every night
feels like a quiet prayer—
that this isn't real,
that I'll wake up
and find you beside me,
that somehow
love like ours
doesn't just end
like this.
I know it's selfish
to still hope,
to still reach for you
from a place
I pushed you away from—
but I don't know
how to unlove you,
and I don't know
how to live
in a world
where you're no longer
mine.