I stand upon the barren edge of myself, where the wind carries only truths too sharp for the unprepared.
Listen,
for even silence has a voice when despair is patient enough to carve its name into the soul.
“I watch the closest people in my life drift further and further from me every day, their tone changed, their energy diminished, their words directed elsewhere, until they are all gone.
People change no matter how much they promise or reassure you.”
These are not merely words.
They are the footprints of fading spirits, pressed into a path I did not choose to walk.
And yet I walk it.
Do you feel it?
That slow, deliberate severing, not by blade,
but by time, which is far more merciless.
A thousand quiet shifts, barely noticeable at first, until you realize you are holding the memories of people who still breathe
but no longer stay.
I learned long ago: hearts seldom break loudly.
They erode, grain by grain, until even the hymns of former warmth is stolen by a wind that refuses to return what it takes.
Still, I do not call out to them.
What leaves willingly
is not mine to reclaim.
What grows distant
was never meant to remain close.
This is the lesson etched into my shadow.
If I must walk alone, then let the loneliness be honest.
Let it sharpen what remains of me, rather than haunt me with illusions
I can no longer trust.
And yet,
somewhere between resignation and sorrow, I offer this truth, steady as steel:
Not every departure is a failure.
Not every emptiness is a wound.
Sometimes the world strips us bare so we may finally see what refuses to abandon us,
even when everyone else does.
In the end, I stand unchanged
by their promises
and unbroken by their leaving.
For although people shift like dust in a restless wind,
I remain,
a single, unwavering silhouette against a sky that has forgotten their names.
~M.