HALF WRITTEN HEARTS

I loved you
the way the moon loves the sea—
from a distance,
pulling,
but never touching.

You were a chapter
I kept rereading,
even when the ending
never changed.

Some nights,
I still feel you
in the pauses
between my breaths—
the almost we had,
the almost we became.

Maybe we were meant
to meet,
to remember,
but not to stay.
Some stories
are written beautifully
only because
they are unfinished.

And yet—
when the wind says your name,
my heart still answers,
softly,
like it’s afraid
to admit
it never learned
how to let you go.