It almost became something real.

No last fight.

No dramatic exit.

Just silence.

Just fewer texts.

Longer pauses.

When I was all in, you were distant.

When I texted first, you answered late.

When I opened up, you changed the subject.

So I stopped.

Stopped reaching out.

Stopped keeping the connection alive on my own. 

And suddenly, you noticed.

Suddenly, I was funny again.

Attractive again. 

Worthy again.

But only when I became quiet.

Only when I made it harder.

Only when I wasn’t there whenever you felt bored. 

So no – you don’t miss me.

You miss the version of me that waited. 

That tried.

That made loving you easy even when you made it hard.