I hope my absence feels like a bruise you can’t stop pressing.
I hope the silence in your room hums the shape of my name. I hope your blanket folds over you like i used to but never the warmth that made it home. I hope every candle you light burns with the scent of what i was to you, until the memory thickens in your lungs, and you can’t breathe freely.
I hope i become the weight on your shoulders, the blur subject in your periphery, and the thought you can’t escape. I hope i linger like a half-forgotten dream that unravels at the edges but never fully lets go. And i hope this ache, doesn’t just stay within you — i hope it grows, until it’s the pain you learn to live with.
I hope i am the one who reminds you of songs — not just any type of music, but the one that fills your chest when it plays and it’s too beautiful, too painful, or too loving for anyone else to understand.
I hope the regret crawls into your skin and reach the parts you didn’t know could ache. But more than that, i hope the moment of realization cuts the deepest — that i gave you everything i could, only for you to let it slip through your fingers. I hope the weight of it crushes you in ways no apology could ever undo.
And when my presence is finally gone, i hope i become the ghost you created — the shadow you carry, and the silence that graces your hearing.
And above all, i hope my memory is the one thing you can never, ever bear to bury (just as you are the ache i’ll always carry with me.)
