Surviving Heartbreak

A Year And A Breath

We saw each other again, a year later,

We sat down to talk,

You looked at me with those same eyes,

But something was different in the way they shone,

A hint of regret; Though maybe it's just a mask—

Or maybe it's just my heart, wishing you'd changed your mind.

I asked how you've been, and you said with a smile,

"I couldn't be better," and I wanted to believe you,

But something in your voice didn't quite align,

And for a moment, I wished I hadn't learned to breathe

Without you, but I'm so glad I did.

I don't regret you leaving, not anymore,

But I fear the weight of healing again,

So maybe you're right to keep your distance,

Maybe this silence is how you protect us both—

From reopening wounds that took so long to mend.

For a fleeting moment, when you smiled at me,

It felt like you never left, like time stood still,

And that terrified me, because you did—

You chose to walk away, and I had to find my way

Without you, though part of me right now wishes—

I hadn't learned how.

But you'd be proud, I did what you said,

I got over you, I moved on,

Yet sitting across from you, just for a breath,

I wished I hadn't, and that is so fucked up.

—MistakenGenius