it's been one year of loving a girl who
has fallen on her knees for me and
who has raged like an electrical fire.
a girl who sits in the car alone and
sings for her own ears.
a girl who has been torn apart more times
than i've ever been kissed.
from the outside, it looks like loneliness;
just one girl in a coffee shop corner
who takes up one side of the bed.
but it's been a year of writing over
every annotation you left on the margins of my pages.
now i've finally gotten to the part where the slate is clean.
the part where i let you go with concrete certainty.
i can hear the shackles clattering to the floor.
that sound means i have made it without you,
that you were not the end of me.
and i've changed so much this year,
would you even recognize me?
it feels like i was put back into direct sunlight after
feeling the radiation only through your glass window pane.
i wear skin you have never touched.
i live on a college campus you've never been to.
i've listened to new music that you haven't heard of.
instead of loving you, i love the things that are just mine, just me.
she's an acquired taste, she is work to love.
but i do.
i love who i am without you.