We drifted apart,
a fate I never believed
would be ours.

You’ll say it was my fault,
but we both know
the story runs deeper than blame.
We loved – deeply,
but in different ways.

It ended
not from lack of feeling,
but because
you let go
while I was still
holding on with both hands,
still willing to fight
for what we had.

And maybe that’s
the quiet tragedy –
not that we stopped loving,
but that only one of us
kept believing.