You gave up on me. And I like to believe it wasn’t because the love disappeared, but because holding on asked too much of you. It’s hard to grasp, the way you let go of a heart that still beat for you, even after yours had stopped echoing back. I loved you deeply, with an ache that felt almost otherworldly in the quiet moments, rare, once-in-a-lifetime kind of love, the kind that slips away if not held carefully. I loved you in ways that didn’t show in daylight. In the silent sacrifices, the unspoken words, the meals laced with hope. Even when the softness left your eyes. Even when your smiles had to be forced. Even when the distance made your hands forget the feel of my skin. You gave up on me, even when I still saw forever in the outline of you. Even when I still dreamed dreams that had your name folded into every page. I never asked for perfection. I just wanted you to stay. To fight, even when it hurt. To meet me in the thick of the pain, where love could still be stronger than the fear. But maybe love isn’t always enough, especially when one heart stumbles before it reaches the ground. Still, I’ll carry your name quietly in the back of my mind. Not with bitterness. Not with regret. Just with a love that never found its ending.
