You think love is done with you.
That it packed up quietly when your body changed,
when your face aged,
when the hope in your chest shrank to “realistic.”

You don’t say it out loud,
but somewhere inside,
youve filed yourself under too late.

And yet
right now,
there are people walking this world
who don’t know you exist.
But when they do,
they wont be able to imagine a world without you

Not because of romance.
Not because of charm.
But because someone out there
is also reheating leftovers for one.
Also sleeping on the edge of a bed meant for two.
Also pretending they don’t mind the silence.

They’re not scrolling for perfection.
They’re hoping for someone
who doesn’t need explaining.

You don’t have to believe.
You just have to keep breathing
long enough to be found.