what if
you stayed,
not because you're kind,
not because you're patient,
not because you're you—
but because you felt the same?
what if
you picked up my 2 a.m. calls
because you missed me,
not because you were just being nice?
what if
you leaned me your favorite books,
not to share—
but to leave a piece of you behind
so i'd remember
you were once here?
what if
you stared at me
a little longer than a friend should?
what if
every smile,
every song you sang,
every fucking silence between us—
was loaded with the same chaos
that burned inside me?
because if that was love—
if you felt it too—
then fuck,
this hurts so much worse.
because now i know
i didn't imagine us.
but i also know
i lost something real.
not because we were never meant to be,
but because
i was too much of a coward
and the timing was too cruel.
and if you did love me back—
even just a little—
then maybe i'd rather
never know.
maybe it's easier
to think
i was the only one falling.