Unrequited Poem by Martins Akhoeneto

As my final act of love,
I will not leave without trying.

I will say what I kept inside,
bring every unsaid word into the light,
and leave nothing that mattered
buried between us.

I have never loved halfway.
When I choose someone,
I choose them to stay
through the easy days,
through the days that ask
whether love is still enough.

But if, after everything,
you still choose to leave,
I will let you.

Not because I loved you less,
but because love should never become
a cage around another person's freedom.

You were never mine to keep.
You were someone
I built ordinary days around
someone whose place at my table
I never thought to question.

And when you go,
there will be small betrayals of memory:
my hand reaching for my phone,
a song arriving where you used to be,
a silence I will almost mistake
for your voice.

I will miss you.
I will hurt.
I will remember.

But I will not make a home
inside what is gone.
I will not turn missing you
into a reason to return.

Some loves end
before the heart has finished
making room for them.

Perhaps that is the hardest part
having somewhere inside you
that still leaves the light on
for someone who has already left.

So go.

I will not make your leaving
another conversation.
I will not ask the door
to open twice.

I will let the last thing I give you
be freedom.

And if letting you go
is the last way I can love you,

then go.

And mean it.

I will.