The Quiet End

I didn’t leave too soon this time, I stayed, I gave you years—not time. I held on tight, I played it fair, while you were present… but never there. You didn’t break me, not in two, that kind of pain I could get through. But this? This quiet, hollow space, where love once lived but left no trace. You called enough to keep me near, but never said what I should hear. You showed up right when I’d let go, just enough care… just not to grow. And I kept waiting, stayed in place, trying to fill what you erased. Tried to be strong, tried to be kind, while losing the pieces of my mind. Not weeks—I gave you years of me, hoping you’d become what I could see. But loving you felt cold and strange, like asking someone who’d never change. Now when I think of you, it’s numb, no tears, no anger—nothing comes. No fight, no spark, no need to pretend, just silence loud enough to end. So when I leave, don’t ask me why, don’t twist the truth, don’t make it lie. Don’t say I left or didn’t try— you watched me fade all in real time. I gave you space, I gave you strength, I gave you love, I gave you length… and when you’re hanging from it all, just know— That you chose the fall.