where the silence goes when you leave

once again, i am abandoned.
not in the loud way people usually imagine—
no slammed doors, no cruel goodbyes.
just… absence.
just that slow, aching fade of you
slipping through the cracks again.

you fell asleep. i know.
i’m not angry that you did.
i never am.
but god,
you left me with this awful silence.
and somehow
that’s worse than being yelled at.

you always say it’s not a big deal,
that i overthink.
maybe i do.
maybe i care too much.
maybe i wait too long.
but when the last thing i said
is still hanging in the air hours later,
untouched and unheard,
it starts to feel like
i’m speaking into a void
that doesn’t echo anymore.
and it gets quieter.
every night you go,
the silence fills in the space
where your words should’ve been.

what hurts
isn’t that you sleep.
it’s that
i keep hoping you’ll stay up for me.
just once.
just to talk.
like i used to matter more
than your exhaustion,
your schedule,
your comfort.
but i don’t.
i’ve accepted that.
but accepting doesn’t make it easier.
i still wait.
i still hope.
and then
i still hurt.
and i don’t know what that says about me.
maybe that i’m foolish.
or maybe
just loyal to ghosts.

i’m disgusted
by the part of me
that keeps yearning
for what i know i’ll never get—
that desperate little hope
that flickers in my chest
even when everything around it
has gone cold.

why does it take so much
to talk to you?
why do i have to sacrifice
sleep,
pride,
sanity—
just to feel close to you
for a moment?

i’ve rehearsed things
i’ll never say.
like how small i feel
when your presence
is a privilege
and not a constant.
like how love shouldn’t feel
like waiting in a line that never moves.
like how i shrink
every time you choose everything else
over me,
and still come back like a fool.
but i swallow all of it.
because i don’t want
to scare you away with the truth.
and so
i become quiet.
and in that quiet,
i disappear a little more each day.

you won’t see this.
you won’t ask.
you’ll wake up and say
“good morning”
like nothing happened.
and i’ll respond
like i didn’t drown in the silence again.

but one day,
you’ll look for me
in the silence—
and realize
i’ve learned to stay gone.