People always ask me, “Was she the one that got away?” Maybe they expect me to smile sadly, to look away and say yes. Maybe they think there's a story of regret behind what we had. But I always tell them no. You weren’t the one that got away. Because for someone to “get away,” they have to leave. They have to disappear. Fade from memory. But my love for you never went anywhere. It didn’t leave. It stayed. It stayed deep in me— In the way I breathe slower when I think of you. In the quiet moments when your memory softens the day. You never became just someone I used to know. You’re still with me, in small ways— When I walk alone and think of how we used to move together through the world. When I write something and remember how effortlessly good you were with words. I carry you with me gently, like a memory I never had to force myself to keep. You're in the way I choose kindness—because you were kind. You're in the way I speak softer now—because your voice always made me feel safe. You're in the way I try to be more patient—because you showed me love isn't something rushed. You weren’t a missed chance. You weren’t a love that slipped away. I carry you not with sadness, but with a love that never asked to leave. So no—you didn’t get away. You stayed. You always do, At least in my heart. (tomydeadpoetry—lamuerte)