It didn't happen all at once,
you didn't vanish overnight.
You were still there, in messages,
in half-spoken words, in borrowed light.
You still replied, still called sometimes,
but pauses grew where warmth once stayed.
The laughter thinned, the silence spread,
and love began to lose its shade.
I told myself, He's just tired,
just busy, just a little late.
But soon the waiting turned to ache,
a quiet hope that learned to wait.
You played your games a little more,
and i became the in-between,
a background hum, a waiting screen,
a ghost behind your dopamine.
Sometimes i'd stare and watch the time,
the minutes turn to something raw,
then smile again when you appeared,
pretending i had never saw.
You still would call when night was done,
and that became enough for me,
it shouldn't have, but somehow was,
my heart mistook it all for peace.
I told myself, He still shows up,
just differently, that's fine, that's fair.
But every night my chest grew tight,
with words i didn't dare to share.
How strange to miss you while you're near,
to talk but feel the miles inside,
to say goodnight and hear the sound
of something fading i can't hide.
You used to ask about my day,
now silence fills the space instead.
I kept on talking to the void,
and called it love inside my head.
I hated how each pause could sting,
how unread words could make me small,
yet still i stayed, and stayed, and stayed,
I'd rather have your half than none at all.