He said all the right things.

Until he said nothing at all.

No argument.

No closure.

No explanation

for the space he used to fill

like a warmth I thought was real.

One minute—he’s in my bed,

whispering like he was afraid to wake the parts of me

that were still healing.

The next—

silence.

Not even a coward’s goodbye.

Just

gone.

Like I made him up.

Like my body wasn’t still humming