I simply love you,
I say to myself every day,
for you are not here anymore,
for you who don’t want to hear it anymore.

And still, I say it,
because the silence echoes louder than words,
because love doesn’t vanish,
even when it’s unwanted,
even when it’s left behind.

I’m hallucinating, you are there.

Some infinities are bigger than others,
mine was the biggest,
stretching beyond what I could ever hold.
Yours?
Yours wasn’t infinity.
it was just a moment,
a fleeting blink,
and I was left with
an infinity of regress.

I’m hit with forever,
a love that never ends,
no escape,
no release,
just endless,
unreturned.

If I can’t be your lover,
I’ll be your friend—
no expectations,
just presence,
a steady hand when you need it.

If I can’t be your friend,
I’ll be a contact,
a name you might call when the world feels too heavy,
someone you can lean on
even from a distance.

If I can’t be a contact,
I’ll disappear.
I’ll fade into nothing,
a memory or gone,
but at least I’ll know
I honored your space,
your choice,
even if it means I don’t exist at all.


But what if I can’t honor it?
For my love grows
even when you’re not here.
I fall in love with the memory of you,
with the silence left behind,
with the ghost of a touch I’ll never feel again.

So what am I to become?
A shadow?
A dream that lingers just out of reach?
Or just a fool
clinging to a love
that you’ll never return?

I said: Please, God, take me away.
If you’re there,
you know I don’t want to stay.

Why’d you do this?
Why leave me like this?
Breathing feels like punishment,
waking up, a curse.

If you can hear me,
then you know
I don’t want this life.
I don’t want to go on
without her.

So take me.
Take me, or tell me why
you won’t.

What am I,
if I can’t let her go?
If others move on,
find new faces,
new lives,
but I stay here,
chained to a ghost
I don’t want to forget?

Do they love less?
Or do I love too much?
Did I lose myself
in her laugh, her touch,
the way she existed
so effortlessly near me?

I don’t want to move on.
I don’t want a new story.
I’d rather love her
with all the weight of this ache.
for years, for decades,
for the rest of my life.

If that’s wrong,
then what am I?

She said,
“You died the day I left.
I don’t know that person anymore.”

And she was right.
My ego shattered the moment she walked away.
The arrogance that held me together
turned to dust in her absence.

Without it, I’m unrecognizable,
even to myself.
No pride, no mask, no armor,
just this endless ache.

What is my limit now?
How far can I fall?
I don’t know.
I’m still falling.