Life has taught me many things,
but one thing I never learned—never understood—
is how people leave without warnings.

I have words left unsaid still at the end of my tongue—
bitter statements I swallowed,
apologies held back by my pride,
and desires I was too ashamed to say out loud.

The words I tried to stray had learned my name
and calls for me in the dark.
So I carry every regret, trying to bury them in a tomb,
but grief has a way of carving itself into my bones.

And as it etches itself into me, my spine remembers you.
My bone crumbles until I bend beneath the weight.
But as I fell, I have learned to live with what remains.

As I write this letter, I know I’ll never finish it.
Thank you for staying as long as you could.
You shaped me into who I am today,
even if I lost you along the way.

- Gerielle Anne Afos 

(Illustration by Alexandra Lim/FEU Advocate)