💔 A Letter I’ll Never Send

 There are some stories that don’t fit into tidy endings. Some loves that arrive like whispers and leave like shadows. And sometimes, the most powerful words we write are the ones we never send.

This is one of those.

 Recently, someone I love — deeply, quietly, and impossibly — said to me: 

“I have so much to leave with you.” 

 He said it in response to my own vulnerable truth: 

“You left your scent with me.”

 It was a moment. One of those poetic, delicate exchanges that feel cinematic, suspended in time. But behind the softness of those words was the hard truth: 

He belongs to a life I cannot enter. 

A marriage without intimacy. A reality without room for me.

And yet, here I am — holding the echoes of something that felt real. 

Real enough to stir my soul. 

But not real enough to stay.

 So, here’s the letter I’ll never send:

Dear You, 

You left more than a scent. You left a mark. 

You showed me that I could feel again — that I could crave closeness, connection, words whispered in quiet moments. And for that, I thank you. 

But loving you in this space, this gray, unspoken place... it’s breaking me in ways that are too quiet to name and too loud to ignore. 

You said you had so much to leave with me. But I don’t want your fragments. I don’t want memory in place of presence. I don’t want to be loved in poetry if I can’t be loved in daylight. 

So today, I release you. 

Not because I don’t love you. 

But because I do — and I love myself too. 

I’m choosing the kind of love that stays. That doesn’t whisper through the cracks of someone else’s life. That chooses me in full — with arms, time, commitment, and truth. 

You will always live in a tender corner of my story. 

But I can’t make a home out of what’s just passing through. 

Goodbye, beautiful almost. 

I’ll carry the lessons. 

Not the longing.

 — Me

 If You're Reading This...

And you’ve loved someone who wasn’t yours to fully have, I see you. 

You’re not crazy. 

You’re not weak. 

You’re just human — and you’re allowed to want more than almost-love. 

You deserve the real thing. 

We both do.