There Once Was Poem by Boledi R Petja

You don't let go all at once.
You let distance do the work for you.
Silence becomes the decision you never made out loud.
Not reaching out turns into a habit,
and the habit slowly turns into detachment.

It isn't strength and it isn't indifference.
It's uncertainty stretched thin over time.
So much time that breaking it feels intrusive,
like reopening something that already learned how to stay closed.
There's guilt in wanting to speak,
and another kind of guilt in choosing not to.

You see each other and pretend that's enough.
Passing glances. Familiar distance.
Shared space with no language for what lingers.
There's no easy platform, no natural entry point,
no version of 'hey' that doesn't carry weight.
Calling would be too much.
Texting would feel dishonest.
Doing nothing feels safer, even when it isn't.

So you detach without force.
Without naming it. Without asking permission.
No closure, no confirmation, no final exchange.
Just a quiet loosening,
letting it fall away without ever calling it an ending.

You move on because life keeps moving.
Not because you're certain.
And somewhere between memory and absence,
between what was and what never happened,
there once was.