He keeps coming back
I loved him
with everything I had.
Not just my heart—
but the spaces between every thought,
the air in my lungs,
the silence before sleep.
I wanted it to be him and me
in the end.
But life had other plans.
Or maybe he did.
He kept cheating,
and I kept forgiving—
not because I was weak,
but because I loved him stronger
than I loved myself.
He was my first everything.
The first touch I didn’t fear.
The first hug that felt like home.
The first voice
that sounded like understanding.
When he held me,
I forgot the world.
I only remembered
how it felt to be safe
in arms that never stayed.
I blocked him.
I begged the universe
to help me forget.
Two years of silence.
Two years of healing
that didn’t really heal.
And then he came back—
just like always.
And I hated
how quickly I let him in again.
How the old laughter came back
like no time had passed.
How his hug
still reached places in me
that I thought were gone.
We kissed—
just lips, just a moment.
But it opened every wound
I’d spent years
trying to close.
Now it’s August.
And once again,
he’s disappeared
into his own silence.
I don’t know what I feel.
I don’t even know what this is.
But I know I don’t hate him.
I just hate that he still matters.
And I hate
that after all this time,
he still knows
how to make me feel
like I never moved on.
S