Time Relapse

slipping back into old moments, old versions of yourself, even when you know better

Time Relapse

I was doing fine
until time touched my shoulder
and whispered your name.

One second I’m standing in now,
the next I’m bleeding in then—
back where hope still wore your face
and I believed it could stay.

I relapse on memories,
not because they’re good,
but because they’re familiar.
Pain with a history
feels safer than silence.

I know the ending by heart,
still I rewind it—
searching for a scene
where you choose me differently.

Time is cruel like that.
It doesn’t move forward in a line,
it circles wounds
until they forget they’ve healed.

I’m stronger than the version of me
who needed you to survive,
but some nights
strength still misses the lie.

This isn’t love.
It’s muscle memory of the heart.
And tomorrow,
I’ll press play again—
and try to stay in now.