The Hardest Part of Letting Go

Here’s to dejá vu.

An uncomfortably familiar stranger.

I always come rushing back like a dog no matter how frequently I tell myself “No, never again.”

This isn’t a craving.

This is more than a passing desire.

This is desideratum.

Without air, i’d suffocate.

Without food, i’d starve.

Without water, i’d dehydrate

Without her,

I’d lose my will to stay alive.

But few things ever break even.

So she’ll keep playing her games, and i’ll go back to watching on the sidelines.

My mind despises this, but my bodies suffering from withdrawal.

Blood is thinning.

Bones are fragile.

Stomach ruptured.

Heart split in half

Lungs collapsed.

Eyes red.

Lips cracked.

and my handsss whnont stiioppp shgakiijnng.

I’ve seen these feelings break the strongest people I know.

I’ve learned the hardest parts of letting go.

It’s not making the decision to quit,

It’s resisting the gnawing urge to go back.

Fall victim to false passion.

Get hooked on pseudo-intimacy.

Just one more shot.

Take one last hit.

Admit it,

We’re all addicted to something.

 
This poem is about: 
Me

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