The Man Who Left, And Never Did

jasonr

Tue Jun 24 2025 11:50:52 PM PDT

I left.

More than once.

Not with pride—

but with pain I didn’t know how to hold.

I walked out loud,

but always looked back in silence.

 

Still, not all of me went.

Some part stayed.

The part that loved you

even when I didn’t know how to show it right.

 

I’ve made mistakes.

So have you.

We broke things—

some never got put back.

But between the wreckage and the years,

you were always there.

And somehow…

so was I.

 

Even when we drifted.

Even when I tried to let go.

Even when I built new fires far from you—

my warmth still leaned in your direction.

 

I’m not a saint.

I’m not your rescue.

I’m not clean, or perfect, or wise every day.

I’m still lazy.

Still ego sometimes.

Still figuring shit out.

 

But this?

This love?

 

It’s never wavered.

 

You’re getting sicker.

And I see it.

God, I see it.

 

And I don’t love you any less.

 

In fact, I love you more—

because you’re still trying.

Because you still carry grace in the middle of grief.

Because I don’t need you to be fine

to be worth everything.

 

And maybe I’m the fool.

Maybe I’m the idiot who holds that one stupid light in the dark,

long after the batteries should’ve died.

But I’m okay with that.

 

Because you’d do the same.

And we both know it.

 

So if the world forgets you—

if even you forget yourself—

know this:

 

There’s still a man out here,

who remembers.

 

Who never stopped.

 

Who walked away in body

but never left in soul.

 

And if you ever ask yourself,

“Was I ever really seen?”

 

Yes.

 

By me.

Then.

Now.

Still.

 

And maybe always.