I Loved You Enough to Lose You

I loved you. Not loudly. Not bravely. I loved you in ways that never asked for anything back. You were meant to leave; even then, I knew. Your dreams were bigger than this place, and I was already tied to responsibilities I didn’t choose but couldn’t escape. So when you talked about colleges and futures, I listened like a stranger, even though every plan you made felt like it was taking a piece of me with it. I never asked you to stay. How could I, when I couldn’t promise you a life like the one you deserved? And you never asked me to come; maybe you knew I was already staying behind. On the day you left, I smiled so you wouldn’t see my fear. I told you I was proud of you. You told me you believed in me. We exchanged blessings instead of confessions. If love is real, it survives even silence. So I carry you with me; in quiet moments, in what might have been. And if there is another life, one kinder with timing and money and fate, I hope I meet you there; not as someone who had to let you go, but as someone who finally gets to stay.