Where You Exist In Me

Hi,

There are places you still live in me. Not loudly. Not constantly. But gently, like a song I once knew by heart and now only hum when I’m alone.

I never told you, and maybe I never will. You were never mine to claim, never someone I could reach without shattering the delicate balance we both seemed to need. So I loved you silently, without asking for anything back.

You became part of the rhythm of my days—woven into certain songs, tucked into half-finished sentences, echoing in moments I couldn’t explain. I thought time would soften it, make it fade. But some feelings don’t leave. They settle. They learn to live beside everything else.

I watched you find happiness—maybe even love—with someone else. I didn’t interrupt. I didn’t protest. I just stepped back and let the distance do what the truth couldn’t.

And still, I carry it. Not as a wound anymore, but as something quieter. Like a whisper I hold onto, even when I don’t remember the sound of your voice anymore.

Maybe love doesn’t always need a story to exist. Maybe it just lives in the spaces we never speak of, and the hearts that learn how to hold something they were never meant to keep.

Always,

Me