I was too young to name it,
Too scared to let it grow.
So I called it nothing, buried it deep?—
But love has roots I didn’t know.
I glance over to her, locking my gaze on hers.
Her eyes—fuck, her eyes betray her.
She’s listening.
I don’t let myself look away.If she’s going to pretend this means nothing, she’s damn well going to do it knowing I see her doing it.
The words come easy now because they’re real.They’rehers.My voice is steady, but inside, I’m raw, exposed in a way I haven’t been in years.
You were the song I never finished,
The note that lingered in my chest.
You were the fire I let burn down,
And the spark I never let rest.
I don’t just sing this song.I pour myself into it.
My throat tightens, and I have to swallow hard.
I hit the next note, but my voice catches for a split second.A crack I can’t hide.
And I know she catches it.I see it in her expression.
Every note, every lyric—it’s not just a performance.It’s a confession, a prayer.
A last chance.
I watch Anna like my life depends on it.
Because maybe it does.
It reminds me of that day—the one where I sang her song for the whole school.But really, it was for her.My last goodbye.
If only I had known…
Her face stays still, unreadable.Arms crossed, chin high.But I see it—the tightness in her throat, the way her fingers dig into her arms.
I push harder, my voice roughening.
Did you know?
Did you see?
That every almost—still led me back to you and me?
Her breath catches.
And for a second—just a flicker—I let myself hope.