You left without a note, without a trace.
The door still open like a wound, unhealed.
I searched for you in every stranger's face,
in every silence where your voice concealed.
I know you fled because of hurt. The nagging,
the questions you grew tired of dodging,
the love that came with weight — while she kept judging.
That's all she knew. Her tongue forever snagging
on everything you did or didn't do.
You never lied. You just stopped speaking back.
One day the house was full. The next — just two.
We checked your room. Your coat was off the rack.
I hope the silence gave you what we couldn't.
I hope it was worth it. I hope. I shouldn't.