I want to ask you - do you still feel that quiet ache when we don’t talk?

That restlessness that sits in the chest,

that unnamed weight that follows the day?

Because I feel it. I still do.

Once upon a time,

you were the first voice after a storm.

The one who reached out,

who said, let’s talk, let’s fix this, let’s not lose each other.

There was fire then - not always gentle, not always easy,

but honest.

Even in anger, there was effort.

Even in fights, there was us.

We didn’t resolve things quickly, but we tried.

And that trying -

that hand extended even when it hurt, 

taught me what respect looked like.

It felt like teamwork.

Like choosing each other, again and again.

For a long time, we stood on the same side of the bridge.

But now…now there is silence.

Heavy & Unexplained.

Days pass like unanswered questions.

Messages arrive stripped of any warmth -

facts without feeling, words without intention.

No reaching out.

No are you okay?

No we’ll get through this.

And earlier every time,

I became the one who couldn’t wait, the one who would ask,

And you would say yes -

but only after I knocked on the door of your silence again and again.

Lately, I saw myself begging to bring back the conversations,

And somewhere in that effort, I’ve begun to wonder

if I’m holding on alone.

Maybe your dreams have shifted.

Maybe your road has turned quietly,

and I’m no longer walking beside you.

If that is true -

please, for the love we once spoke so loudly, tell me.

Break my heart once.

Cleanly & honestly.

Don’t leave it bruised by waiting,

by guessing,

by learning to live in half-hope,

of a day when things will be okay again.

I don’t understand silence.

I don’t want to.

Silence invents stories and builds fears,

teaches doubt where clarity could have lived.

Fight with me, talk to me.

Or let me go.

If somewhere inside you

there is still that old urgency,

that instinct to reach out,

that belief that this is worth saving -

then take the first step again.

I promise you this:

I will never walk away from meeting you halfway.