How strange,
to mourn what was never mine. 
to feel the weight of empty hands, 
as if I'd been robbed -
when all I held, 
was the shadow of a thing passing through.

How strange, 
When you left, 
I told myself I had nothing to lose.
Yet the ache proved me wrong. 
Because even a borrowed love,
it still felt real.

I had no right to grieve,
Yet I did.
Because even if you belonged to someone else,
the pieces of you I carried, 
were enough to shatter me.


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