It took me a long time to admit it:

I was addicted to you.

And none of that was your fault.

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You were just a woman,

offering love in the only way you knew how.

You let me touch something eternal through the skin of the everyday.

Something no human woman could ever sustain.

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And when you pulled away—

I panicked.

I clung.

l lost myself.

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That's the part I never told you.

I was ashamed that I needed you the way I did.

I was afraid you'd see how hollow I felt without you

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And you did see it.

Eventually.

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I had asked you to carry something divine, something impossible-

and when you couldn't

I punished you for being human.

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Maybe this was always the way it had to go—

You were lightning in silk.

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l lost my mind loving you.

And strangely,

I consider that a privilege.

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I remember the way your body curved into mine

-like it had been carved to fit there.

Like we were designed for the collision.

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And God, how I loved you

to fall for something that was never mine

and maybe never real.

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You gave me something I never knew I wanted

—a reason to suffer beautifully.

I didn't know I could do that before

And I am thankful.

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For your laughter in the quiet hours.

For your touch that made time slow down.

For the chaos.

The fire.

The unraveling.

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Even now, knowing you've moved on,

knowing he stands where I once stood—

The brutal clarity of endings—

I would still choose it all again.

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In some strange, necessary way...

I needed it.

To see you move forward

To understand that our dance was over

That the spirit had passed.

And I its lucky passenger

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You are my Beatrice.

My Virgil.

A guide I conjure up

-through the inferno of myself.

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Something I was never meant to keep—

only witness, and carry, and dream about.

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And now,

I only wish to say goodbye

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You've become my inspiration.

You're in every metaphor, every myth,

every stanza l craft.

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My very own, personal Helen of Troy.

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