the end

“at the end of the story i don’t have the hopes of you returning but i will still be waiting waiting… not with flowers not with open arms but with quiet poems folded into corners of pages you’ll never read and if someday you happen to look back i hope you see the version of me who never stopped believing in the almost maybe we were a poem meant to be unfinished— but still, i write as if you’re reading even if the end was really just mine”