you were meant for me,
but not as the love of my life like i wished,
not as the hand to hold through the storm,
but as a lesson etched in the cracks of my heart—
to never trust the warmth of the sun
without questioning its burn.

you came softly,
like whispers in a quiet room,
like the first snowfall, pure and weightless,
and i, foolish in my hunger for something real,
held you close,
not knowing you would melt away
and leave my hands cold, trembling,
empty of everything i thought i’d found.

i built my dreams on the sound of your voice,
on the way your laughter lingered
like music i never wanted to stop playing,
but it was a song of false promises,
a melody too sweet to be true.
you were the lie i wanted to believe
because the truth tasted like ash.

you were meant to teach me
that not all love is salvation,
that some hearts beat only for themselves,
and some arms will hold you
just to let you fall.
your touch wasn’t safety;
it was a trap wrapped in tenderness,
a lesson carved deeper than the ache of goodbye.

now, when i think of you,
it’s not the softness i remember,
but the sharp edges of what you left behind,
the silence after your footsteps faded,
the weight of learning
that love, when hollow,
is the heaviest thing of all.

you were meant for me,
but not to stay,
not to build a forever in my heart,
only to teach me
how fragile trust can be
when placed in the hands of someone
who never intended to hold it.