May a part of me die letting you go. {Poem}



Letting you go is killing me—killing some part of me.

Shedding a layer of my identity that’s no longer suited for personal growth.

It feels like I’m dying—letting you go.

That’s what love is, the stripping away of the veil so we might see the deeper truths buried in logic and decaying thoughts.

We’re opened, our wounds exposed.

We are quick to retreat usually.

Our defensive mechanism for banishing harm.

But despite how painful this feels, this is different.

Love does not impose harm upon anyone or anything.

Love simply determines what’s real and what’s a facade.

So it strips us of our personas and lies.

We’re left with our bare, naked bodies and the raw nature of who we truly are.

This is where I intend to meet you someday but it appears as if now is not the time.

Until then, I bid you farewell and please know that I love you ever so dearly.


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