loss of my life
something that i can hold. you loved me. i loved you.
and still, we failed to become us. there was no villain in our story, only gravity.
two people reaching, always a fraction too late. you held me with care, i held you with faith, and somehow neither of us could hold the life that came with it. love existed. the future did not.
we stood close enough to feel each other breathe, yet never close enough to stay. what we lost was not affection, but alignment. timing slipped. circumstances hardened. desire remained — untouchable, impractical, quietly devastating.
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i do not doubt your love.
that is the cruelest part. if you had loved me less, leaving would have been easier. if i had loved you less, staying would not have cost so much.
we did not break each other.
we dissolved. slowly. mutual. i let you go as you let me go, both pretending it was mercy. perhaps it was. perhaps it was cowardice wearing a gentler name.
you loved me. i loved you. but, love alone could not save us from losing ourselves to the trying.
so we lost us — not in flames, but in silence. and sometimes, that is the darker ending.
