In the end, we both lost.

You lost a man who —
even on his worst days —
found a way to put your needs first,
respect your boundaries and desires,
and to give you everything that he had to offer
regardless of the energy you wouldn't contribute.

I lost, too.

I lost the man that I was when I met you.
That guy who flew across the country for you
in spite of his detrimental fear of flying.
The man who watched the sunlight
ricochet from the ocean waves
to caper and pirouette
in your auburn eyes.
The one who saw magic in everything
that your little hands touched...
even the things that they broke.

I lost the part of me that had hope;
that fell in love with the little things...
and the part that could trust a stranger freely
who had done nothing to earn that trust.

I lost...
but maybe I was wrong.

Maybe you couldn't have lost anything,
because you can't really lose
what you give away.

.
.
.

— © think twice
{grief, part one}