She used to be the type to send long messages,
with words woven in silk and charm,
the kind who selected songs with care,
as if every note had your name written on it.
The kind who greeted first, with a smile,
breaking through the silence to break the ice,
asking how you feel in the mornings,
waiting to hear your voice like a soft flutter.
She used to be the one who got lost in the details,
in the crunching of leaves under our feet,
in the shared moments, sweet and bitter,
hunting for stars in the vastness of the sunset.
She spent hours deciphering my silences,
like someone searching for treasure at the bottom of the sea,
each whisper a mantra that brings me closer to you,
every forgetfulness a breeze that takes me away again.
But time, with its dance and its twists and turns,
has taught me that there are days when you have to be quiet,
to be the echo that gets lost among distant shadows,
knowing that deep down, I will love again.