He Loved But Could Not Stay

He loved you. Do not let anyone — not even your own grief — *tell you otherwise.* He loved you in a field of tulips *when he said he was in bloom — and meant you.* He loved you with vinyl records from Manchester, hydrangeas in a printed bag, kitchen knives for blunt ones, dark Toblerones from Germany, *and oleanders on the last day.* There is a difference between the capacity to feel love *and the capacity to remain in it.* He could love. *He could not yet sustain it.* You deserved someone who notices your blunt knives, remembers your dark chocolate, brings flowers every time — *and stays.* *You still do.*