The last light

I loved you

like the sea loves the shore—

always returning,

even after the storm.

I held you

in the quiet places

where the world forgot to look—

where I could keep you safe

and soft and still.

But you,

you have been drifting.

Not like tides,

but like a ship pulling anchor—

and no matter how I reached for you,

you pulled further away.

You say nothing,

but your silence

is a thousand tiny cuts.

And I have bled myself

into kindness,

into hope,

into patience

you never asked for.

I stayed

when it hurt to stay.

I smiled

when I was breaking.

I gave you the pieces

you didn’t know I had left.

But love—

even the kind that would burn itself

just to keep you warm—

cannot survive

forever in the cold.

So now,

I whisper the thing

I never thought I’d say:

I’m letting go.

Not because I want to.

Because I have to.

Because somewhere along the way,

I lost me

trying to hold on to you.

And it’s shattering—

God, it’s shattering—

to stop fighting for someone

you still want to love.