I didn’t lose you all at once—
it came in quiet surrenders,
in words you didn’t mean to keep,
in promises that learned how to bruise softly.
I gave you my faith with open hands,
like something meant to be held, not weighed,
and you carried it lightly—
as if love were a thing that never falls.
I mistook patience for devotion,
silence for depth,
your almosts for forever—
and I stayed where I was already fading.
Losing in love isn’t just the goodbye.
It’s the way you keep showing up
after the door has closed,
hoping your heart will be chosen this time.
I lost when I loved you more
than you were willing to risk,
when my truth bent itself smaller
just to fit beside yours.
But even in the wreckage,
I didn’t lose myself entirely—
I learned what it costs to love honestly,
and what it means to walk away still whole.
I lost you.
But I kept my heart—
bruised, wiser,
and still brave enough to love again.
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