no body

A poem about imagined love, absence, and letting go of what never existed

Don’t cry for what didn’t happen.
It doesn’t care.
It never breathed,
never touched your skin,
never said your name
like it meant it.

You gave it a face
and fed it like a stray.

You kissed its teeth
and called them lips.

You built a life
on a mirage of warm smoke,
drank from it
like it was water.

But it was just wind
dressed as memory,
and the ache that follows
when you try to hold
a shadow underwater.

No bones.
No blood.
Just the silence
after a lie feels true,
the kind that wears your coat
and hangs around your doorstep.

It waits for you
in the quiet hours,
asks you to come back
to a house that never stood.
Don’t.

What might have been
is a grave with no body.
You’ll crawl in
and still feel cold.
You’ll scream,
and only the dirt will answer.

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More soon.

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