Sometimes, I still find myself standing in the quiet space between dreams and memory where your name doesn’t hurt but it still echoes.

I won’t say I understand it all now.

I won’t pretend the knots ever really untangled.

But I see you in the way the light catches a certain kind of sky, in the warmth of a laugh that isn’t mine to hear anymore.

You found something new.

Maybe better, maybe just… different.

And I hope it holds you gently.

I hope it knows the quiet ways you come undone and chooses to always stay.

This isn’t a plea.

Not a wish for return.

Just…if the world grows heavy, if your shoulders forget how to carry the weight,

you don’t need to knock.

Just come in.

There are some doors that were never meant to close.