Leave

Leave—

before the walls remember my name,

before the floorboards learn the sound

of my shaking hands.

Leave—

while there’s still a part of me

that believes I’m worth staying for,

before the shadows start whispering

everything I’ve tried to forget.

I can’t promise I won’t miss you.

I can’t promise I won’t ache

in places you never even touched.

But I won’t ask you to hold on

to someone who keeps slipping

through their own fingers.

So go,

while the door still opens,

while the sky outside

still carries a little color.

Leave—

not because I don’t care,

but because I do.

And because sometimes

loving me

means walking away

before the darkness drags you down too.