Something Missing

*After You Left Me* I look around this life I’ve built, and on the surface, everything seems complete. But there’s a phantom ache in the air, like a word on the tip of my tongue that I can’t quite remember, or a melody that cuts off just before the final note. It’s the constant, ambient feeling that the puzzle is finished, yet there is a hole right in the center. After you left me, I thought I had accounted for everything I’d lose. But it’s the small, nameless things that haunt me now, the specific way the light hits the floor at 4 PM, or the silence that feels too heavy because it isn't being shared. I’m moving forward, but I’m walking with a limp I can’t explain. I have everything I need, yet I’m surrounded by the evidence of *Something Missing* , It’s not just you; it’s the piece of the world that only existed when we were together.... --- *Something Missing*