unintelligible dan repost
After the Storm: Part IV
The truth is,
I didn’t see her slipping away.
Not at first.
She would smile at me,
but her eyes didn’t shine
the way they used to.
She asked me how my day was,
but I barely answered.
I thought she’d always be there.
I thought love didn’t need tending,
like it would keep blooming on its own.
But love isn’t a garden
you can ignore.
If you don’t water it,
it dries up.
And when it did,
she went looking for rain
somewhere else.
I remember now
how she used to sit by the window,
watching the world outside.
She wanted me to join her.
She wanted me to notice her.
But I stayed lost
in my own thoughts,
in my own storms,
not seeing the one
building inside her.
She didn’t leave me right away.
No, she stayed.
She waited.
She tried.
But I was blind to her loneliness.
I didn’t hear the questions
in her silence
or see the pain in her smile.
So when she found someone else—
someone who listened,
someone who noticed her—
I couldn’t blame her.
Not really.
But I did.
Because it was easier to be angry
than to admit I was the one
who let her go.
I didn’t ask her why.
Not at first.
I only raged.
I broke the quiet of our home
with words I’ll never forgive myself for.
She stood there,
tears in her eyes,
and whispered,
“You stopped seeing me.”
And that was it.
The truth came down on me,
harder than any storm.
I could have saved her,
saved us,
but I didn’t.
And when I lost control,
when my hands moved
before my heart could stop them,
I sealed it.
Now, I sit in this garden,
where her hands once planted life.
I press my fingers into the soil,
searching for the pieces of her
I’ll never find.
I want to believe
she forgives me.
But forgiveness feels far away,
like a place I’ll never reach.
I should have loved her better.
I should have seen her pain.
But I didn’t.
And now,
the storms stay with me,
raining over a love
I let wither and die.
The truth is,
I didn’t see her slipping away.
Not at first.
She would smile at me,
but her eyes didn’t shine
the way they used to.
She asked me how my day was,
but I barely answered.
I thought she’d always be there.
I thought love didn’t need tending,
like it would keep blooming on its own.
But love isn’t a garden
you can ignore.
If you don’t water it,
it dries up.
And when it did,
she went looking for rain
somewhere else.
I remember now
how she used to sit by the window,
watching the world outside.
She wanted me to join her.
She wanted me to notice her.
But I stayed lost
in my own thoughts,
in my own storms,
not seeing the one
building inside her.
She didn’t leave me right away.
No, she stayed.
She waited.
She tried.
But I was blind to her loneliness.
I didn’t hear the questions
in her silence
or see the pain in her smile.
So when she found someone else—
someone who listened,
someone who noticed her—
I couldn’t blame her.
Not really.
But I did.
Because it was easier to be angry
than to admit I was the one
who let her go.
I didn’t ask her why.
Not at first.
I only raged.
I broke the quiet of our home
with words I’ll never forgive myself for.
She stood there,
tears in her eyes,
and whispered,
“You stopped seeing me.”
And that was it.
The truth came down on me,
harder than any storm.
I could have saved her,
saved us,
but I didn’t.
And when I lost control,
when my hands moved
before my heart could stop them,
I sealed it.
Now, I sit in this garden,
where her hands once planted life.
I press my fingers into the soil,
searching for the pieces of her
I’ll never find.
I want to believe
she forgives me.
But forgiveness feels far away,
like a place I’ll never reach.
I should have loved her better.
I should have seen her pain.
But I didn’t.
And now,
the storms stay with me,
raining over a love
I let wither and die.