Come back to me

Please?

Deep down, I feel it. A quiet emptiness that stretches between us, an ache in the spaces you once filled. And I know you feel it too. Maybe not all the time, maybe not in the loud, crashing way I do, but I know it lingers. I know, because I can feel you slipping.

Talk to me. Let me in. You don’t have to know what to say; you don’t have to have the words. Just exist with me for a moment, just let me be near. Whatever weight you carry, whatever silence is pressing against your ribs—I won’t ask you to explain. I just want to be here, to listen, to hold space for you, for us.

You don’t have to go through this alone. You never did.

I hope, whatever it is, it gets easier to bear. I hope the things that keep you up at night loosen their grip, that the heaviness fades, that one day, you wake up and realize the ache has disappeared. But until then, promise me something—Promise you'll stay. Stay long enough for the storm to pass. Stay long enough to remember that you are loved, wanted, irreplaceable.

And if you can’t talk yet, if you’re not ready, that’s okay. Just—keep in touch, let me know you’re still out there. Let me know you’re still breathing, still fighting. Because I don’t know how to exist in a world where you don’t.

I miss you. God, I miss you. Our late-night talks, the way you bring me alive and full, the warmth of knowing you were always a message away. I miss us—the effortless, familiar, heart-achingly beautiful us.

So, whenever you’re ready, come back to me. No matter how long it takes, no matter how far you think you’ve drifted, I’ll still be here, waiting. Because no distance, no silence, no time could ever make me stop wanting you.

Come back soon, my love.