Today, I texted her.

It took everything in me to type those words.

My hands trembled, my chest was heavy,

and a part of me was screaming don’t do it.

But I did.

I just wanted to talk… even for a moment.

Even if she didn’t care anymore.

The reply came.

Less than two minutes of conversation.

She didn’t ask how I was.

She didn’t ask if I was still drowning in the same pain I never showed her.

She didn’t ask if I was still holding on.

She just said:

“I’m blocking this number too. Don’t wait.”

And that was it.

No softness. No care. No goodbye.

I stared at the screen, hoping she’d say something else.

But she didn’t.

And somehow… that silence hurt more than the words ever could.

Yeah… I cried.

Quietly. Helplessly.

Like someone who finally realized the person they love has already let go.

But yeah…

I’m still gonna wait.

Not because I believe she’ll come back —

I know she won’t.

But I want her to be the last person I ever kiss.

The last person I ever love.

Because no one else will ever feel like her.

She was home.

And now I’m just lost…

with a hear

t full of love and nowhere left to put it.