The Part of Me That Still Bleeds

Each day starts a little differently.

Some mornings feel okay, almost normal.

Other days drop me straight into the dark — the kind of dark you used to talk me through. You were the one telling me I’d make it through, that you were right beside me.

Now I’m feeling along the walls, turning in circles, trying to find my way without you.I believed every promise you made…Until the moment you didn’t keep a single one.

When it was your turn to fight for me the way I fought for you,

you left me in the cold.

You didn’t slowly fade out of my life —you let yourself be ripped away from it.

And in that ripping, you took a part of me with you.

The part that was hopeful,

the part that was grateful,

the part that believed you were a steady place in my life.

Now that part feels gone, and I don’t know how to bring it back.

There’s a man who wants to love me.

He’s gentle, caring, and patient.

But what you did still haunts me.

Your ghost stands between us, reminding me how badly you hurt my heart and how easy it was for you to leave.

We weren’t “just friends.”

We were two people holding each other up when one of us was too weak to stand.

Our souls were tied by a thin thread that stretched through years of storms.

And every day you stayed away, another piece of that thread snapped.

I supported you because I wanted you happy.

But you didn’t support me back.

You hid what I meant to you.

You kept me a secret —as if the years we spent in each other’s lives didn’t matter.

As if I had been something to be ashamed of.

When you let yourself be torn away from me,

I bled.

And I kept bleeding.

I tried to cover the wounds, but too much was left exposed.

Now I’m on my knees trying to patch myself together.

Blood dried on the floor.

Eyes sore from crying.

Still hoping I’ll wake up and find out this was all some horrible dream.

Part of me still wishes you’d show up, wrap me in the kind of hug that made the world quiet,

and tell me we were okay.

Tell me you didn’t mean to leave.

Tell me none of this is real.

But it is real.

This hole in my heart is real —the same hole you promised you would never create, the one I always feared you might.

You told me I was being dramatic.

You convinced me you’d always be here.

And I believed you.

I believed you with everything in me.

I never got to speak my truth.

Never got to tell you how deeply you hurt me.

Some nights, I lie awake crying for the closure I never got.

Crying for the friendship that was real,

that mattered,

that died without explanation.

I miss the good times.

I miss how you could calm me down with a few words.

I miss the comfortable silence where we both knew the other was there without having to say anything.

I miss us — whatever “us” ever was.

People didn’t understand it, and we stopped trying to explain.

Now there’s a part of me that feels broken,

and I’m trying to learn how to fix it.

I have someone who wants to love me,

but I’m scared. His promises sound like yours,

and I don’t know if my heart can survive being hurt that deeply again.

What hurts the most is that I always pictured you meeting him.

I wanted you to see how good he is to me.

I wanted all of us to be in each other’s lives.

I thought we’d support each other through everything.

I truly believed that.

I miss you.

Every day.

Every hour.

Every minute.

And even after all of this, I still pray for your happiness —

because that’s how much I cared,

and maybe how much I still do.