The code for a love so deep you become the sole guardian of its memory. It is the act of
letting go not because the love faded, but because you want their
happiness more than your own. It is the silent reply to a "toasted hug and a kissfull cup of coffee" that remains unshared.
I didn’t let go because the love faded out or because I stopped caring, or because my mind finally went quiet about you. I let you go for the hardest reason of all: because I wanted you To be happy.
The truth is, I still live in our
private chat history. I re-read the messages, smiling like an idiot at the cute parts and pausing on those rare, heavy timestamps where you actually typed out, "
I love you."
I know you’ve probably wiped your phone clean, cleared the cache. So that leaves me to hold onto the messages, the promises, and the
inside jokes for the both of us.
I still sigh when I think about the "what ifs." The plans for your birthday, finally just the two of us, celebrating you, that ended up just being another ghost on the calendar.
I pause on your reply to that. It hits the hardest now. You said you don't have to wait for a birthday, because "I'm yours every single day."
And here is the secret I’ll keep to myself: I’m still going.
I will be in that city, standing in the shadow of that famous balcony alone. And when the day comes, I’ll whisper a silent "
Happy Birthday" into the crowd, hoping the universe somehow carries it to you. I’ll wish for your absolute happiness from the very place where we were supposed to find ours.
I’m choosing the movie ending instead. Not the one where we end up on the balcony together, but the scene where one person loves the other enough to
take the fall. I’m choosing the pain so you can finally be fulfilled.
I love YOU! 123