The End That Didn’t Find Emends

I don’t know where to start
I suppose this is coming from the heart.
I’d hoped the day would never come that we’d depart.
But here I sit, with the end
that didn’t find emends,
crackling memories drift,
while my life has fallen apart.

I speak your name
as though you’re still here
like it might summon
the ghost of comfort
through the ache of every year.
Time’s passed,
but the pain…
it never healed
it just settled in

I wish goodbyes came with closure,
or instruction manuals for the soul.
But grief writes its own language
in fragments,
in silence,
in stories that never feel whole.
And I,
I’m just trying to write
my way through the aftermath,
scribbling stanzas
in the margins of our last laugh.

You left
but your echo stayed
I speak your name
not to resurrect,
but to remember
how light used to bend around you,
how the air felt gentler

This isn’t the poem where I move on
it’s the one
where I stay a little longer,
sit beside the wreckage,
and whisper your name
until the silence
feels softer.

My longing for you knows no end.
It ends in the same place it begins
like a circle that has
no beginning,
no end.
The cadence in my tongue
symbolizes the rewind
to where it all begun.

I speak backwards sometimes
not out of confusion,
but out of memory’s insistence
to return
to touch the last page
as though touching it
might make it turn……