There are things I wanted to say, but the words never came. Not because I didn’t feel them, but because some truths don’t belong to the mouth. Some things live deeper than the voice—lodged between heartbeats, hiding behind breath. And maybe that’s where they should stay. Not every truth needs to be spoken. Silence is a boundary, too.
You learn to let people go. Not with bitterness, but with quiet acceptance. Let them do what they’re going to do. Let them make their choices, chase their distractions, dance in their illusions. The game of chase is for kids in Candyland—bright colors, short attention spans, and a sugar high that always ends in a crash. Some of us stopped playing that game a long time ago.
But if there’s one ghost that haunts more than any other, it’s the one who got away.
Not the romantic ideal. Not the fantasy. But the soul you recognized before you knew why. The one who stayed with you, even when you tried to replace them. Even when you buried them in new lovers, in distractions, in time. Even when you told yourself you’d moved on.
They still draw you in when you’re not paying attention. You feel it like a tap on the shoulder in a dream. An old song on a random playlist. A name you haven’t heard in years, suddenly dropped into your lap like a sign. And when they think of you—when their thoughts reach toward the person you used to be—you feel the pull. But they don’t know you anymore. That version of you, the one they’re still stuck on, is long gone. We held a funeral for them. Quietly. No flowers. No ceremony. Just an inner nod and a final breath.
You can feel the regret in them. Not in words, but in energy. A tension. A wondering. A reaching. They think they made a mistake. And maybe they did. But it was the mistake that gave them what they said they wanted. Their wish came true, and all the consequences came wrapped in the bow.
Be careful what you wish for. You don’t just get the fantasy—you get the weight of it too. You get the twenty percent you were missing, but you lose the eighty that held the whole thing together.
Could’ve been. Should’ve been. But isn’t.
There’s still some unfinished business there. A tension. A loop that hasn’t closed. But I don’t know what that is yet. So we wait. We watch. We let the story unfold like a book we’ve already read, but forgot the ending to.
That chance encounter that should not have happened? That was no accident. It was the universe folding time to remind you. Not of what you lost—but of what still lives under your skin. The lessons. The ache. The love. The pull.
When we sit and dwell on what we want, we build it like a dream in our heads—piece by piece, inch by inch. But reality shows up in different clothes. It always looks different than we imagined. You think you want them back, but what you want is the version of yourself you were when they loved you.
And maybe… that’s what you miss most.
I know you’re watching. I can feel you. Waiting for a crack in the door. For an opening. For a moment to slip back in and pretend it all could work again. But that world is gone. What you think is there… isn’t.
That energy, though. That magnetic hum. It still pulls. It still tempts. Close your eyes—there I am. You look at the phone. You hesitate. You want to send the message. Make the call. But will I answer?
Am I still there?
Do I feel what you feel?
Maybe.
Maybe not.
But you knew me. You saw me. Not just the smile, or the body, or the mask. You saw the soul. The edge. The shadow. You understood the human in me. The wounded, sacred, holy mess. And I knew you, too.
We collided like stars that were supposed to align but couldn’t hold the gravity. Meant to be… but not meant to stay.
That’s the curse of soul ties. Some were never meant to last. They were meant to teach. To awaken. To burn away everything false so we could face what’s real. And now, all that’s left is that echo.
A whisper in the dark.
A question that lingers.
A love that can’t quite die.
Leave a comment