The Last Time I Say Your Name

I will not pretend I did not love you.

I loved you in a way that startled me.

In a way that made me sit back and think,

Where did this come from?

It was one-sided.

I know that now.

You were honest.

You told me where you stood.

And still, my heart ran ahead of you.

That part hurt my pride.

It bruised my ego to love a man so deeply

and know he did not love me back the same way.

There is something humbling about standing alone in your feelings.

Something exposing about loving without return.

But it was not delusion.

It was not fantasy.

It was the realest love I have ever felt inside myself.

And that is what makes this so hard.

You were kind to me.

So kind it almost feels unfair.

You were gentle with my heart.

Thoughtful in ways that did not need an audience.

You did not lead me on.

You did not promise me a future.

You simply were who you were.

And I loved you for it.

I understood you in a way that felt instinctive.

Like I could read what you did not say.

Like I could see past the surface and into the part of you that carried weight.

I saw your softness in the way you loved your grandmother.

The quiet loyalty you carried for your mother.

The protective instinct stitched into you for your sister.

I saw a man who was good to the women in his life.

Not performative.

Not loud.

Just steady.

And when other people misread you,

I did not.

Some saw attention and assumed ego.

Some saw distance and assumed coldness.

But I watched your actions.

And your actions were warm.

I never felt jealous.

I never felt possessive.

I never wanted to cage you.

I felt euphoric.

Euphoric that I could love like that.

That I could care without control.

That I could want you without trying to own you.

It was the first time in my life

that love felt expansive instead of anxious.

Calm instead of consuming.

Even knowing it stood alone,

I was amazed by myself.

And yet…

I cannot keep loving you from a distance.

It would be unfair

to the next man who stands in front of me

worthy and willing

if part of my heart still turns toward you.

So this is my goodbye.

I cannot carry you quietly into the next chapter of my life.

Not dramatic.

Not angry.

Not resentful.

Just honest.

I loved you more than you loved me.

And I accept that.

You do not owe me anything.

You never did.

But I owe myself release.

If you ever find this,

I do not want you to feel guilt.

I want you to know

you were loved deeply.

You were seen clearly.

You were understood without being forced.

And I am walking away

not because I stopped loving you

but because I love myself enough

to want love that meets me back.

This is the last time I say your name in this way.

Not because it did not matter.

But because it mattered too much

to carry forever.