It wasn’t love—
not the kind with promises,
not the kind that stays.
But it was something.
A glance that lingered,
a message that made me smile,
a voice I wanted to keep
like a favorite song
I wasn’t ready to forget.
For a while,
it felt like we were building
something quiet,
something real.
Then came the silence—
not loud, not cruel,
just slow.
Distant.
And I didn’t know how to hold on
to something slipping
without a sound.
I miss you.
Not because we had everything—
but because we almost did.
And sometimes,
it’s the almosts
that hurt
the most.