I’ve never really appreciated you.
Like how I’ve never really appreciated each breath I took in, each rise and fall of my chest — what a miracle it was. What I regret the most is that I never told you how much you really meant to me. That if you only asked I would take you to the ends of the earth.
Which is why I tried to keep you with me, even though it was better for you to leave.
But realizations come too late. As my voice echoes around your abandoned room, the silence is deafening.
And all those empty promises we made, how we told each other that we would have our happy ending, were all more useless than the boxes and boxes of pills they made you take. No matter how many pages I placed by your bedside, how many love poems I wrote you in the candlelight, how many pretty words I whispered against your lips, I couldn’t save you.
But I tried.
“Stay,” I used to write by your side, as your eyes flickered rapidly beneath shut eyelids.
I tried to make you stay.