I held you like a letter
sent to the wrong house.
Your name in gold.
My hands worn out.

You came in clean as a glass of water
set on a table I forgot to dust.
I tried to act like I could afford you,
tried to stand there dressed as trust.
But every gift had a quiet invoice,
every kiss made the ceiling rise.
You called me yours in a normal voice,
and I heard courtrooms in the sky.
I kept my shoes by the bedroom door
like I might need to disappear.
You left your laugh on the kitchen floor,
I stepped around it for a year.
No fight.
No crash.
No final bad scene.
Just a love so good it embarrassed me.

You were too rich for my blood.
Too bright for my room.
I couldn’t keep your love
from looking like proof.
So I let you go,
like I had the right.
You were too rich for my blood,
and I was poor in my own eyes.

You never asked me to earn the sunlight,
never kept score by the bed.
I made a debt out of every good night,
turned your mercy into dread.
You said, “Stay,” like a door left open.
I heard, “Run,” like a debt collector.
I took the softest thing you gave me
and made it sharpen under pressure.
There’s a cup you loved in the cabinet still,
blue rim cracked on the lower shelf.
I don’t touch it.
I barely will.
It knows too much about myself.
You deserved a hand that didn’t tremble
when the blessing came too close.
I signed away what I couldn’t carry,
then called it mercy when I broke.

You were too rich for my blood.
Too bright for my room.
I couldn’t keep your love
from looking like proof.
So I let you go,
like I had the right.
You were too rich for my blood,
and I was poor in my own eyes.

I hope somebody takes your coat
without checking for the price.
I hope somebody hears your laugh
and doesn’t flinch at paradise.
I hope they kiss your tired hands
like they belong in light.
I hope they never make you pay
for being kind.

You were too rich for my blood.
Too bright for my room.
I couldn’t hold your love
without turning it into proof.
So I let you go,
and I called it right.
You were too rich for my blood.
I was poor in my own eyes.

I kept the cup.
I lost the hand.
Some gifts leave rooms
that rooms can’t stand.