It's strange…
how two people can share so much of their skies,
and still walk away looking at different stars.
Days passed.
Then weeks.
And now, only time remains — quietly stretching between memories and what-ifs.
I never met her again after that café.
Not because fate didn't allow it,
but because some stories are meant to stay where they ended — beautifully unresolved.
I still think of her…
in empty roads bathed in moonlight,
in songs that somehow knew us before we knew ourselves,
in cafés that smell like old books and silent endings.
And every time the wind gets a little too cold,
I remember that winter inside me —
not as pain,
but as a season I once survived.
I don't hate her.
How could I?
She was never just a person to me.
She was an emotion —
a long conversation I still continue with the universe on quiet nights.
She was the moon I kept choosing,
even when I had the whole sky.
But maybe…
just maybe…
some people are not meant to stay.
They are meant to enter like a question,
and leave like an answer you never say out loud.
So I carry her in the gentlest corner of my heart —
not as a regret,
not even as a lost love…
but as something that taught me love doesn't always mean staying.
Sometimes…
it means letting go
with grace,
with silence,
and with a smile that only you understand.
Because some goodbyes…
don't hurt.
They heal.
[The End]
"Sometimes, the loudest goodbye is the one without a sound."