Member-only story
Letting Go Is a Process
A Poem
i tell myself
every heart heals
in due time, in due time —
and there’s no forcing the pieces
to fit back together as if they are still whole.
that crack there —
he gave it to me when he looked away,
a blush coming to his cheeks,
before he stammered out he didn’t feel that way.
this crack here —
it happened when that last text
became a void as long as a tunnel
where someone could just crash and burn.
that sliver —
it chipped off when he looked at me
as if i were something less than human
but he couldn’t bear to say it straight to my face.
this jewel —
it fell away when i threw his memory
out to sea where he belonged after so much time,
but still i fell to my knees and wept on the shore.
and this new fissure in my chest?
it’s a fresh wound, still far from scarring,
but i’ll carry it with me just like all the rest
because what else can you do with a broken…
