All Unsent Messages

I memorize the routes to you, even when the room is full of people. If this reaches you, know I tried. That?s okay.

I collect reasons to text you, and I tuck the ache into my sleeve. I?ll put the phone down now. That?s okay.

I hope you forgive yourself too, and I leave the porch light on anyway. This is for the version of us that almost was. I?m keeping the promise this time.

I wear your silence like a coat, and I collect myself in small pieces. This is for the version of us that almost was. I?m keeping the promise this time.

I keep your last message pinned, because I?m afraid of what you?ll say back. I?m letting this be my goodbye. You don?t have to answer.

I can draw your handwriting from memory, and somehow the world keeps happening. Wherever you are, be gentle with yourself. I won?t rewrite this again.

I?m sorry I forgot your softness, though the calendar insists we moved on. I hope you?re loved where you are. This is enough.

Thank you for the sunlit mornings, and I keep asking the moon for advice. I?m choosing to breathe without you.

This is the last time I write this, and I keep rewriting the past in kinder ink. I will keep the soft parts of us. I mean this kindly.

I?m sorry I kept score, and I wonder if you kept anything of us. This is for the version of us that almost was. I won?t rewrite this again.