I’ve decided that this is the last thing

I will ever write for you

So I will try to make it count.

You deserve more than the unread scribbles

Of an unremarkable poet

And I’m sure you will receive more.

I’ve realized that I care too much for you

Because in the end, these poems are for me

More than they are for you.

You will not see them,

For I will not show you

But in my heart I know, and that is enough.

This is not the best thing I have written for you

But I smiled at you yesterday and you smiled back,

So it doesn’t matter.

It is time to let you go,

In fact, it was time to let you go a long time ago,

But I remained hopeful.

This poetry does not flow,

Does not rhyme as I hoped it would

But neither did we.