you will never get away from the sound of me

inspired by silver springs by fleetwood mac

Jun 17, 2025

was i such a fool?

you will never outrun me. not in the people you meet or the places you go. i don’t live in photos. i live in pauses. in the quiet you mistake for peace. in the flicker behind your eyes when you hear a song you used to play for me. memory doesn’t always scream. sometimes it sighs.

you’ll think you’ve forgotten until a shadow moves the way i did. or a girl leans in, laughing at a joke you haven’t told in years. and suddenly, i’m there. not entirely, just enough to ruin the moment. not a ghost you summon, but one that slips in quietly when your guard is down.

i’ll follow you down til’ the sound of my voice will haunt you

you’ll never see cats again without thinking of me. not just mine, but any of them. curling in sunlight, pressing their faces into warm concrete, purring like they’ve known you forever. you learned their moods like verses. called their names like spells. i watched you love them and felt safer because of it. like maybe you could be soft with me too.

and every time you see a cat stretching in the sun, every time a purr hums through your hand, you’ll remember that afternoon on our anniversary. how we crouched together in the park, petting every stray like it meant something. it did.

and the photo booths. god. the photo booths. not just the first one; your slicked-back hair, the way we burst into laughter when the flash hit too soon. you kissed my cheek in the third frame and we were so inexplicably happy.

not the last one where we passed a cowboy hat back and forth between frames, pretending we were in a western. you pulled me close between each photo like you couldn’t help it. like i belonged there. i remember thinking, we’ll show this to our kids one day. we didn’t know it would be the last time. but something in me was already trying to remember everything.

give it just a chance

i remember us skipping down the street one night, drunk on something that felt like forever. you kissed me under a traffic light like we were the only people on earth. we spun on empty sidewalks, the city humming in the background. you twirled me like we were in a film, and for a second, i believed we were. that joy like that could last.

maybe one day you’ll kiss someone else like that. maybe it’ll be raining. maybe she’ll smile like i used to. maybe her laugh will echo in the same key. and maybe, in that split second, your chest will tighten and you won’t know why.

you’ll blame the weather, or the wine, or something else entirely. but it’ll be me. memory does that. it hides in gestures so small you almost miss them. the way she reaches for your face. brushes lint off your jacket. and just like that, the moment is ruined. not because it isn’t good. but because it isn’t me.

you’ll never get away from the sound of the woman that loves you

i hope you remember that night, even if you forget everything else. even if you forget the things i brought to make your life feel more like home. the cake i searched for on your birthday because it reminded you of childhood. the lego set you loved. the tea i booked to fold you into my family’s tradition. how carefully i tried to belong to you.

when you fall in love again, and you will, i hope it’s not easy. not because i want you to suffer, but because love like ours should leave a mark. i hope i cling to you like the scent of old perfume on a favourite shirt, something you can’t quite wash out. like a bruise that blooms overnight, tender and surprising.

i hope you feel me in the quiet spaces. in the pause before someone else speaks. in the way a touch almost feels familiar. i hope your chest tightens and you don’t know why.

time cast a spell on you, but you won’t forget me

i hope you find me in the smallest things. maybe she will play with your hair while you sleep, and something in your chest tugs. not in comparison, but in memory. in the way you realise someone else once did this too. that someone was me.

i kissed you mid-argument. chose you without asking to be chosen back. gave until there was nothing left but the shape of me in your room. you had something rare, and you let it go. not because you stopped feeling, but because you were too afraid of what it meant to stay.

sometimes i wonder if you were ever meant to receive a love like that. the kind that forgives. the kind that folds into the everyday. i would’ve grown old with you. built a quiet life filled with shared routines and small kindnesses.

eighty years of reaching for your hand in the dark. you didn’t have to earn it. you just had to hold it. and no one else will love you like that. not because they won’t try. but because love like that happens once. and mine already did.

i hope the countries i belong to taste like me. when you return to those cities we wandered, i hope they ache. not cruelly. just enough to remind you that they knew us once. i hope a sidewalk feels heavier than it should.

i hope you see a photo booth and pause. not because you want to go in, but because you know it wouldn’t feel the same. i hope taylor swift plays and you hear it how we did. like a prayer.

i know i could’ve loved you, but you would not let me

now i’m haunted by the future we never got. and you, by the past. by the girl who loved you harder than anyone else ever will. you’ll feel it when a song sneaks up on you in a grocery store. when you stumble across something i left behind.

when someone asks about your first great love and you hesitate before saying my name. maybe you won’t say it at all. maybe silence will feel safer than truth.

maybe i was a fool. but you were the greater one. because you let go of someone who would’ve stayed.

and no matter how far you run, no matter what new life you build, no matter how many times you try to bury me, you will never get away from the sound of the woman who loved you.

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