Dear You...

Dear You,

I’m writing this note with a suitcase by the door,
Packed with the memories I can’t carry anymore.
Each shirt still smells like the love we once knew,
But I guess even good things outgrow their glue.

I folded the laughter, the late-night talks too,
Tucked them in corners, like I used to with you.
But the zipper won’t close—there’s too much inside,
Like the way your name echoes where my heart once lied.

I thought love was staying, weathering the storm,
But sometimes it’s leaving so we both can reform.
So I’ll take this suitcase, this weight off the floor,
And learn how to miss you a little bit more.

Goodbye,
Me