Everything I’ve ever let go of has claw marks on it.
I bet your wounds are still fresh from my nails digging into your skin, pulling you and begging you to stay.
Bargaining and pleading and confessing my love for you with words I’ve never even known existed.
I bet your shirt is still damp from the river of tears I cried when you first said, “It’s over.”
Streaming as wide as the ocean. As calm as the sea but as disturbed and as massive as a hurricane destroying a town like you destroyed my heart.
I bet your legs are still tired from constantly running away from me.
As I chased after you in hopes that you would love me again like I loved you despite of what you said. I realized that you were gone farrrr before you left. And I still didn’t want to let you go.
But I did.
Your wounds healed.
Your shirt dried.
Your legs are well rested.
And we can finally say it’s over.

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