I wanted him to love me the way I loved him so much, I forgot to take time to appreciate all we were, just the way we were. Now, looking back, I’d give anything to go back to have one more day the way it used to be between us.
One More Morning
To the one I loved
who never quite loved me back—
it’s been a while now
since we let the silence
grow louder than us.
We didn’t even notice it happening.
One day we were everything to each other,
and the next—
you were just… gone.
There was a time
we didn’t need to ask to be together.
You’d show up at my door,
or I’d find my way to yours,
like it was instinct—
like breathing.
Whoever had the coffee
would pass it between us,
morning smoke curling into the quiet
as we figured out the day
like we had all the time in the world.
We fit so easily.
Like something already whole.
Your mom—
she became mine too in a way.
She saw me, understood me,
in that rare, gentle way
people don’t come across twice.
So when she got sick,
there was no question—
I was there.
Holding her hand,
trying to hold onto time,
grateful just to have known her,
to have known you.
And you—
you became everything she needed.
You got sober for her,
showed up in ways
that made her proud.
I saw it.
I still carry that version of you.
And even after she was gone,
you kept going.
You got better.
You started living.
You found someone.
God, I was proud of you.
I still am.
I just wish
I could’ve stayed close enough
to watch it all unfold.
But somewhere along the way,
I realized
this ache is something I built myself—
a home made from almosts
and maybes.
Because you were different.
I loved you
like something inevitable—
like gravity,
like magnets
pulling without permission.
You knew me
in ways no one else ever has.
And even now,
with your life moving forward
and mine still searching for direction,
I find myself waiting—
for your name,
for a message,
for some small piece
of what we used to be.
I miss you.
But more than that—
I miss us.
The version of love
I didn’t even know was love yet.
My other half.
My best friend.
My world.
And if I could ask for anything—
it wouldn’t be forever.
Just one more morning.
One more cup of coffee passed between us.
One more cigarette
in that quiet, easy silence.
Just once more