I’m Still There… A Soliloquy of the Unfinished

 Sometimes it feels…

I’m still there —

Right where you left me.

That place is no longer a station,

No street, no room,

But a feeling —

One that clings to the ribs like a shadow.

There were promises…

Left mid-air, never landing.

You said, “Forever, always.”

But time —

Time had other plans.

Now those vows are ashes,

And I,

I write poems with their dust.

There were wishes —

To fall asleep on your shoulder,

To talk until the stars grew tired,

To sip tea on a quiet winter morning…

They now return as fog

In my eyes whenever someone says your name.

There were dreams —

Of a little home, two cups of coffee,

Some books, and a sunlit window…

Now, they live as faded photographs

That were never taken,

But I still carry them in my chest.

There were journeys we never took —

Wanderings, without a map,

In cities we never touched.

Even the wind along those roads

Seems to ask,

“Where is she… the one you loved so much?”

There were words —

So many unsaid,

Especially the one question:

"What are you to me?"

I never asked.

Maybe I feared you’d smile and shrug,

Or worse… go silent.

And that silence

Would become my lifetime sentence.

And yes… there were intentions.

Small, sincere things —

Like writing you a poem on your birthday,

Or finding that book you once mentioned

In passing.

But somewhere along the way,

We lost each other.

And those intentions —

Now they beat quietly in my ribcage

On the loneliest nights.

Still, I remain —

Here, amidst all that’s unfinished.

Where joy was fleeting,

But love…

Love was whole.

Now I know —

Some loves are most complete

When left… unfinished.