The Tower - I Still Look At You

 


I still look at you

and wonder what could have been.

When we first met, I was in awe —

you were bright, effortless,

a spark in my childhood dusk.

I didn’t know that one day

you’d become the shadow

in the place I finally found light.


I still look at you,

at how hard you move through the world,

how you stretched yourself for people,

how you once stretched for me.

I didn’t see the hands that lifted me

were the same hands slowly undoing me,

working overtime to pull me under

while calling it love.


I still look at you

and thank the heavens for the moment you arrived.

You were the love I prayed for,

the warmth I swore I deserved —

but I didn’t know my heart would become

your offering to those who never saw you.

I didn’t know you’d break me

to earn approval from ghosts.


I still look at you,

the child you once were —

wide-eyed, soft laughter,

jokes that filled our house like summer.

I didn’t know that light would twist,

that the joy would sour into something

you can’t climb out of,

a storm you now call home.


I still look at you

and remember the comedian,

the sweetness, the care —

but anger rooted itself in you,

grew wild, grew sharp,

and blinded you to the love

that was right there, reaching.

You became someone

no room can hold without trembling.


I still look at you

and for a moment, I grieve what we lost —

but I finally know

not everything broken needs saving.

So I look one last time,

and I let go.

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