Just like Puerto Vallarta—
     a place I loved
     long before I admitted it,

     a place I always visited,
               always lingered in,
               always dreaded leaving.

A place that felt easy,
     warm,
     familiar—

     even when it was new,
     even before I had the right to call it home.

Every goodbye felt wrong,
     every departure was

     a small ache,
     a quiet promise:

     one day, I won’t leave.

And then,

I didn’t.

Now,
    with her,
    it’s happening again.

Every moment together—
      rich,
      vibrant,
      sunlit and warm—

      ends too soon.

Each parting harder than the last,

Each goodbye unfinished,
             incomplete.

But I know this feeling—
  the pull of somewhere…

  I want to stay—

  the ache of leaving someone I can’t bear to lose.

I’ve done this once before.

Chosen to stop leaving,

Chosen a home in something—
  that was once just a place I loved from afar.

I’m not afraid to choose again.