Harke
You are well aware by now that you cannot outrun grief.
Yet at times you feel prideful that you seemed a single step ahead of it.
That was until you felt your joy bleeding out.
The only thing you could think of before you died were the beautiful eyes that never reflected an ounce of light that said, “I love you.”
You craved that didn’t you.
From anyone really.
The love that didn’t staple its receipts.
A love of which you owed no return.
That same love which did not care for what you were, only that you were.
What puts a smile on your face remembering the pride in having something you never held.
Not because it was too heavy to bear but simply because it never existed at all.
If you understand that, why ask if your silence matters to them like their absence strikes you?
If you understand that, why tell yourself that for your final act of love, you made them hate you so they wouldn’t miss your absence.
Was it not clearer than fog that they had been walking away for a while now.
Making them turn their back on you would not matter if they already never planned to glance back.
Step down from there you have not won any medals.
Wipe that stupid grin off your face it’s making you bleed and that makes me cry.
I cannot drink my tears any longer.
Written 10 April 2026 at 3:30 PM
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