This is to you, my love.
My former love.
I burned your letter today.
I held it for one year and ten months.
Today I burned it in the sink, and the smoke
made my eyes water.
I didn't know how I was to feel but I felt...
Determined.
Burning it may have meant nothing, may have brought nothing
or withheld nothing....
but it felt freeing
and I am drinking that feeling, now, always, as much as I can swallow.

I am free, and I am not mad.
I am free, and I am not mad at you, at all.