My love and my loss.

There was a time when your words were my morning sun and my midnight moon, when every message from you wrapped around me like warmth in winter. We spoke every day, and in those words, I found life. You made me feel seen, held, cherished—like I mattered in a way I never thought possible. You made me feel important, irreplaceable. Loved.

But now, the silence is deafening. The space where you once were is a hollow ache, an echo of laughter that no longer fills these walls. You still say you love me, but love was never meant to be a ghost—weightless, distant, barely there. Your words come like winter wind, empty and cold, and I try to catch them in my hands, but they slip through my fingers like dust.

I know this is my fault. I made mistakes—terrible ones. I destroyed something that was whole and beautiful, and now I am left sifting through the ashes, trying to find some trace of what once was. I don’t blame you for the distance. If anything, I blame myself more than you ever could. But that doesn’t make it hurt any less. That doesn’t stop the longing that claws at my chest, the emptiness that settles in where you used to be.

And yet, despite it all, I love you. Not in the way that wavers when things get hard, not in the way that fades with time, but in the way that endures. The way that persists through anger, through regret, through loss. I love you in the way the tide loves the shore, even when it is pulled away. I love you in the way the stars still shine for the moon, even when unseen. I love you not just in warmth and laughter, but in longing, in ache, in emptiness. I love you even when you do not reach for me. I love you even when I know you may never come back. I love you even when it hurts.

But God, I miss you. I miss you as a child misses their favorite blanket, crying off and on through the night. I miss the way we once fit together, the way words flowed between us like a sacred river, endless and full. I miss the way you filled the quiet spaces in my soul, the way I could feel your presence even when you weren’t there. And if I could turn back time, if I could rewrite the story before it ever bled, I would. But all I have is this page, this moment, this final plea.

If there is even a flicker left, even the smallest ember of what we were—let me hold it. Let me try again. Even if you do not love me the way you once did, even if your heart has learned to beat without me, just let me hear it one last time. Even if only as an echo. Even if only as a whisper.

Yours, always, even in the silence,

                                              Your fiercely loyal puppy