I Had To Break My Own Heart So That I Could Let You Go

I had to break my own heart so that I could let you go.

Because your whisper haunts me when I’m cold.

“Don’t be scared,” you said.

The vibration sent from your diaphragm hollowing into the depths of my soul.

I need to rid myself of your echo and erase the image of your face. You never told me what any of this was supposed to mean.

Do you expect me to wait here patiently for you to decide that you are ready to return to me?

Am I to remain the same, untouched?

Is that what you would prefer? Is that what you want?

Am I not to chase every sunset and rise, breaching the brink of existence? The galaxy’s edge.

My own skin doesn’t feel like mine under these fingertips.

Every night, I break down in tears from the weight of all this.

It was the only thing in my life that came with ease, loving you.

I guess I should have spent more time loving me.

Was I truly too difficult to please?

Self-destructive if you get too close. Distance is needed because we both require growth.

Water me with love, poetry, tears, and wine. I never thought I would get tired of finding words to rhyme.

Intellects say that heartbreak is when artists create the best of their work. Must I have to break in order to know love?

When I was with you, my words naturally chimed.

Delicate sounds manifested, I lost track of the time.

Rather to have loved than to never love at all, right? But those poets don’t know the stories of you and I.

How dare you plant seeds of dreams in my head?

Cut my heart wide open and run away once you realized that I bled.

Worse than that, how dare I pretend like you aren’t flawed, human. Like you wouldn’t make mistakes, like you couldn’t do me wrong.

And maybe this is simply just a chapter in the book of my life titled heartache.