The Last Time I Saw Her

Something is broke—

broke like my soul,

perfumed with jasmine

and the stench of sorrow,

a mood steeped in nostalgia

and a broken record that spins

until my thoughts explode—

yet somehow,

it makes me feel like nothing.

Nothing to care about.

Nothing worth loving.

I tried,

God, I tried.

But inside…

I’m hollow—

a cemetery filled with shadows,

ghosts that know my name,

and whisper it in the dark

when I try to sleep.

I always felt something was missing.

Maybe that’s the reason I’m still here.

A wound that never closed,

a question that never got an answer.

But all I know now—

is that I miss her.

So, so, so much.

I dreamed she forgave me.

That I made a promise

to be better,

to stop tearing my own skin

with invisible hands.

But—

with just a flicker in my eyes,

a single tear tracing a familiar path—

I broke it.

And the moment I betrayed myself,

I betrayed her too.

It felt like watching her die

all over again.

And I couldn’t move.

Couldn’t scream.

Couldn’t save her.

The last time I saw her,

she grabbed my hand

like she was holding on to life itself.

I told her I had to go.

And God—

I left.

Stupid. Blind.

I left.

I didn’t know

it would be the last time

I’d feel her warmth,

hear her voice,

smell her hair

when the sun hit her just right.

Now I’m trapped.

Surrounded by voices,

echoes that gnaw at my mind

like rats in the walls.

I scream in the dark,

but there’s no voice left.

I started taking pills

just to stay still,

just to exist

without drowning.

But every night,

I wonder—

does she still love me?

Would she forgive me

just once more?

Just once?

But I know.

I know.

She’s gone.

She left—

the same way

I lost myself.