The Boy Who Wrote Me Poems: Chapter 5

The Poem He Never Gave Me

 I hadn’t seen him in days.

No poems.

No glances.

Just silence.

Until I found it. Folded neatly in my locker.
Unlabeled. Unsigned. But I knew.

I always knew.

“If I disappear,
it’s because I loved you too loudly
and you started to hear it.”

My chest cracked.

I pressed the paper to my lips like it could bring him back.
But he was gone.

No trace. No reason.

Just ink and absence.

I re-read every word he ever gave me.
Cried through each line like it was a thread pulling me back to a version of myself I only knew through his eyes.

He wrote me poems.

And in doing so—he wrote me alive.

But the last poem?
The one he never meant me to read?

That one… buried me.

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