💌 To the Woman He Couldn't Keep
You loved in a way that made the world warmer. You gave songs meaning. You lit the fire, and then stood in it.
He took pieces of that—your favorite words, your softest moments— and scattered them like ashes on the next stage of his performance. But let me tell you something…
You are not his script.
You are not a melody to be passed around. You are not a mood board for his next victim. You are not the starter soul for someone else's imitation romance.
You are an origin story. The reason his words ever sounded beautiful. The heart that made him seem capable of loving.
He borrowed your shine—but he could never hold it. He tried to wear your light, but it burned through the costume.
Let him give your songs away. Let him pretend.
You, my love— you are not made of echoes. You are the sound before the song. The breath before the truth. The silence after healing.
You’re writing something new now. And this time, the chorus belongs to you.
With everything you are, —with everything he’ll never be able to steal again— I love you.
— Me
