“i love you, so please let me go” — inspired by i love you so, the walters
you were born of stillness and silver, baptized in the river by the churchyard. manners pressed into your spine like a birthright, sundays spent under cathedral spires, chin lifted beneath your pastor father’s gaze. your life was pressed linen and polished propriety, where even grief wore gloves and every feeling bent to decorum.
and then there was arthur.
he was rough, unpolished, baptized in blood instead of water. something caught between outlaw and proper, never belonging to either.
you met in quiet places: the garden gate left unlatched, the orchard wall, the scent of lavender crushed beneath your feet. he touched you like a sinner handling something holy, tender and afraid, as if holding you too tightly would break you.
you both knew the world wouldn’t allow it.
when your father learned who he was, he passed judgment from the pulpit: cut ties. cleanse yourself of him. return to the path carved by legacy and blood. but love born of wild things does not die so easily. you planned on escape, of trains and false names. you would choose him, if only he would let you.
but that june night, heavy and humid, he came for the last time.
the garden remembered his steps. the gate opened without protest. he stood there in the moonlight, hat in his hands like a mourner at a grave, his face hollowed deeper by the silver light.
when you came to him, barefoot and confused, he did not smile.
“…’m sorry,” he said, voice rough, fraying. “for all of it.”
you stepped closer, but he moved back, throat tight.
“we can’t do this anymore. you and me… we don’t belong in the daylight. i ain’t good for you. never was. you need better than a wanted man. better than me.”
you tried to speak, but he cut across gently.
“i ain’t sayin’ i don’t love you,” his gaze soft but steady. “hell, that’s the only thing i do know. i love you so much it makes me want to be someone else. but wantin’ don’t change who i am.”
his jaw locked. his eyes shone with suppressed emotions he learned to silence long ago.
“if i stay, you’ll be buried too soon. you’ll lose the good in you, bih' by bit. and i can’t be the reason your life gets ruined.”
he reached out once, brushing your wrist gently.
“i love you,” he whispered, pressing your hand to his lips. “so please let me go.”