You were my solace.
My steady.
My safe place to land when the world felt too sharp, too loud, too much.
You always knew. Even when I said, “I’m fine,” you saw through it.
You’d tilt your head, pull me close, whisper, “Talk to me.”
And somehow, the weight would lift—just enough to breathe again.

But now, it’s me who’s carrying the silence.
It’s me who’s watching and waiting and wishing.
You’ve become unreachable, tucked behind a wall that even love can’t scale.
And I’m left here, breaking in the place you once kept whole.

I miss you.
Not just your touch or your voice.
I miss being known without explanation.
I miss feeling safe, even in the chaos.
I miss the version of me that only existed beside you.

Come back.
Please come back.