And Then, At Last, I Will Become Silent | Bangwing IN

And Then, At Last, I Will Become Silent
I love you still.
A love that does not knock on your door,
does not ask to be chosen,
does not call your name into the dark—
yet refuses to leave my chest.
I have tried to bury it.
In laughter that never belonged to me,
in long nights spent convincing myself
that I had finally survived you.
But some truths are stubborn things.
I still meet you
in places where you have never been.
In the pause between two notes of a song,
in the fragrance left behind by rain,
in unfinished words
that tremble on the edge of memory.
And grief is not always loud.
Sometimes it sits quietly in the heart,
breaking one small thing at a time,
until even breathing feels borrowed.
I know you are not mine.
Perhaps you never were.
But love is a faithless disciple—
it obeys neither reason nor farewell.
It lingers.
It builds a home in ruins and calls it devotion.
I must confess something:
I did not merely love you.
When you left,
you carried away the future,
but somehow left my soul behind.
Since then,
I have been living like an abandoned prayer—
still addressed to you,
still waiting to be heard.
I cannot hate you.
Not after all the light
your name once brought to my darkness.
So every evening,
I extinguish myself a little more,
and lie down beside the ashes.
And when my story reaches its final page,
do not rush to stand beside my grave.
The world has grown tired of my waiting.
It will not wait for you
the way I did—

the way I always will.
And Then, At Last, I Will Become Silent