When a luke warm shower is more comforting than memories of your hands pressed to my hips: this is me loving myself. Poking at bruises on my thighs, forearm, neck (none of which were caused by you): this is me loving myself. Words aren't running off of my fingertips anymore and the muscles in my hands don't twitch. You were my muse and I will carry you in my words. Un purposefully reserving a place for you in myself: This is me loving you, this is me letting go.