What Loving Him Taught Me

He said, “Let’s talk.”

I said, “I’d like that.”

But he didn’t. We won’t.

That’s what loving him taught me.

Not the words, but the gap between them and the follow-through.

Not the potential, but the pattern.

He taught me that hope, even when tender and sincere,

is not enough to build a bridge alone.

That wanting to be close doesn’t mean someone will step forward.

That the people who see your light

may still choose their shadow.

I learned that I can be dazzling in someone’s eyes

and still not be chosen.

I can be funny, generous, attuned, open-hearted

and still not be met.

He taught me that I don’t want to be orbiting someone’s maybe.

That I need more than a rooftop joke, a glance, a sweet goodbye.

I need someone who follows through.

Who says, “Let’s talk,” and does.

Who sees me and steps toward, not away.

Loving him didn’t make me smaller

it clarified my size.

It showed me the difference between being appreciated and being claimed.

Between stirring someone and being held by them.

Between chemistry and commitment.

He made me feel seen.

But he didn’t stay to witness.

And now I know:

love without action is just longing with good lighting.