Haunting
They reappear in the shadows of your feed and mind, close enough to unsettle you, never close enough to stay.
After the funeral of their absence, they drift back like smoke through keyholes—liking your story at 2 a.m., watching your life like it’s a movie they’re too cowardly to audition for. You feel the chill across your skin, a reminder that graves aren’t always six feet under; sometimes they’re just behind an Instagram handle.
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After the Silence: When Love Leaves You Empty and You Reclaim Yourself
In the quiet after he vanished without goodbye, I learned love isn’t always a circle that closes. Sometimes it’s the courage to breathe again, rewrite your story, and find freedom in the spaces left behind.
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Doorway to My Own Becoming
The night the world split, a door would not open and the air pressed in like a hand over my mouth. I wore his borrowed sweater, hunted for his footsteps in silence, and wrote a letter in his voice, not to forgive, but to find self I had lost.