He Was There, But Not With Me

Some love doesn’t leave with slammed doors or final words. It stays like a ghost, breathing in rooms where it doesn’t belong. This is for anyone who’s ever had someone stand close enough to touch — but never truly be there at all.

He was there,
but not with me.
His body — a shadow draped across the bed,
breathing in my air,
but giving none back.

He stared through walls,
eyes fixed on a place I couldn’t follow,
and I learned then
the sharpest kind of loneliness
is the one that wears familiar hands.

Love shouldn’t feel
like waiting for the same heart
to show up twice.

This poem lives inside my book Rage & Rise: The Goddess Spoke Back, a collection for every woman who’s ever burned quietly, then rose loud.
THIS BOOK IS STILL UP AND COMING AND ALMOST COMPLETE. YOU WILL BE ABLE TO FIND IT ON MY AMAZON AT https://www.amazon.com/author/empathygoddess