Hello, You…

Hello, you…
Were you there too, in that same place tonight?
Or is it just my memory playing its familiar tricks again?
For a fleeting moment, I thought I caught your scent—
that unmistakable fragrance,
the one that smelled only of you…
of your heart, when it was still warm.
I sat in your favorite corner,
at the table we once chose together—
same cup,
same light,
same ache.
But I…
I am no longer the same.
Do you remember that photo?
The one taken in a rush while we were laughing?
You were holding my hand and said,
“Stay like this… don’t ever change.”
But I did change—
far more than you think.
How could I not?
You left,
and with you, everything that looked and felt like you.
Even my own face has grown unfamiliar to me.

Tell me about her—
the one who now stands where I once did.
Does she make you laugh the way I used to?
Does she understand your silences
without needing to ask what’s wrong?
Does she know how to calm your storms
the way I did—
pulling you into my arms as if you were something fragile,
something precious?
Does she remind you that you’re okay,
on the days you forget it yourself?
Do you laugh with her the way you laughed with me?
Do you whisper to her the way you used to whisper to me?
Does she give you the kind of love I gave so freely—
without asking for anything in return?
Does she do what I did?
Say what I said?
See you the way I saw you?
Feel your pain before you speak it?
Or have you simply forgotten the ache—
the moment someone else offered you attention I once gave without hesitation?
It’s okay.
Take your time thinking.
I already know all the answers.
You may have everything now…
Everything—
except the soul
that once gave you life.
That,
you will never have again.
Not even if you try to replicate it
in a thousand other women.