This is the last poem I’ll write for you,
not because the love is gone,
but because it finally learned how to let go.
I still carry you in the quiet places
in the pauses between breaths,
in the way certain songs still feel like home.
Loving you is never something I can unlearn,
only something I have to set free.
You deserved a version of me
that didn’t come with storms behind his eyes,
someone whose hands didn’t tremble
when trying to hold something so gentle.
And I tried, God knows I tried
but love alone was never enough to fix
the parts of me that couldn’t stay whole.
So this is me choosing you,
in the only way I have left
by stepping aside
so you can find a love that doesn’t feel like work,
a love that doesn’t ask you to wait,
a love that meets you without breaking.
I want you to be happy,
even if that happiness forgets my name.
I want you to be loved
in ways I couldn’t quite reach.
And if the world ever becomes too heavy,
if the nights grow too quiet
just know there is still someone, somewhere,
who will always care,
who will always hope you’re okay.
But I won’t be the one you come back to.
Because loving you
means letting you go.