My lullaby

They say it happens once in a lifetime, but I'll tell you, I've seen it twice. You can see love truly is a sacrifice. I gave mine away, and though the world stayed quiet, now I walk around like an open wound, bleeding to nobody but the sky. They tell me it should be this way, but the path I picked is still mine. I walk it through the silence, the kind that doesn't mind company, and someday, when I'm tired of the quiet, when the ache feels like a hole I cannot run, maybe you'll be there, waiting, not with arms wide open, but with a smile that just says you don't have to explain. Till then, I'll keep my hands in my pockets, counting stars on the pavement like old friends who never call back. And maybe that's okay. Maybe the point was never to get there—it was to keep walking anyway. You say you don't remember, and that's okay. I say I do, in a way. You say you don't forget me—I say I'm still your good morning, your late-night lullaby, your maybe, someday, your sweet like Sunday. I run in your way—I come back home. to the place I belong, a place I haven't seen, but yet I still feel that I'll be somewhere down the line, I'll remember you're still mine. You're the shadow I chase when the lights go out. The question I never answered because the answer's just you. Still feels true.