that night, something in me shifted— not a crash, not a breakdown, just a quiet ache that didn’t go away.
she told me she loved me the most, and for a long time, i believed it.
every call, every late-ningt talk, every “i’m here for you” felt real— until it wasn’t.
when the truth came out, nothing exploded, it just went silent.
the same hands that used to hold me were holding someone else, and i didn’t even know what to feel anymore.
i tried reaching out that night, hoping someone could pull me back from that heavy space in my head.
but nothing helped— not words, not tears, not even the pills i took just to make it stop for a while.
after that, i stopped trying to start over.
it’s not that i hate love— i just don’t trust it the same way anymore.
because if someone who once swore they’d never hurt me, could lie that easily, then maybe love was never what i thought it was.
sometimes she still crosses my mind, not as someone i miss, but as a reminder— that even people who once made you feel safe can be the reason you never feel that way again.
and maybe that’s what stays—
not the anger,
not even the pain,
but the quiet fact that i still don’t know how to hate her.
Ez's Poems 