I could have loved you—
had the timing been kind,
had our shadows aligned
before we became who we are.
I should have loved you longer,
you deserved that much of me.
But somewhere between who I was
and who I was forced to be,
I would have stayed—
if staying hadn’t meant shrinking.
Now, all that remains:
I loved you.
A simple past.
No continuous flow, no perfect past.
Just—loved.
But I must go now.
And perhaps, when my pieces align,
I will love you—
a new tense, a new time.
As for you:
love yourself.
Not for who will,
not for who did—
but because you must.
You always must.