No, I will not write you a love poem. I will not tell you I miss your smile or your laugh. I will not say that I have cried thousands of tears knowing you are gone from my life.

I will not write you a love poem because I do not love you. I didn’t love dancing with you. Or talking to you about God and science and changing the world. I never loved making you laugh or getting compliments from you.

As I was sitting in the passenger seat of your car and smiling shyly out the window it certainly never occurred to me that I wanted to kiss you.

Or maybe what I don’t love is the part where you left forever. Where you started another life. And I have no right to be part of it because I was never important to you.

I guess you didn’t love how awkward I am in conversation. Or how horribly I dance. Maybe you didn’t love my immaturity. Or that I’m not interesting and worldly. Maybe I was too obvious about my feelings and made you uncomfortable.

On good days, I can convince myself I didn’t do anything wrong. But most days are just ok.

So no, this cannot be a love poem. But I think we both know it’s not because I don’t love you.

It’s because you’ll never love me.