Poetry collection

I Wanted More

You said you wanted to be friends,
but I didn't want that.
I wanted more—
to pull the thread of you, unravel your secrets,
know the patterns of your thoughts,
to hear what stirs the silence inside your mind.

I wanted to feel your warmth,
to trace the softness of your skin,
to lose myself in the depths of your eyes,
as if they held the answers
to every question I've never dared ask.

But I understand.
I am not the one you're searching for.
You—like a bird chasing a distant sky—
fly toward something I cannot see.

I wanted to ask you,
was it my fault?
Was it us? Or something lost between us?
But before I could, you vanished—
and now I wonder.

Are you okay?
Have you eaten today?
Do you feel the ache I feel,
or is your world a quieter one now,
its doors closed to me?

I wish you would speak.
I wish you would tell me
how to stop caring so deeply
for someone who no longer lingers here.