my heart, that's always had to make a fist
had finally learned how to hold someone's hand instead
and to use it's grasp to keep you in our embrace
and how to touch softly with fingertips unclenched

but now it has to try and learn to let go

the bathroom doesn't smell like your perfume by the sink anymore
and a meal by myself becomes the first of an uphill march
every time I laugh I notice you aren't here laughing with me
hangers sit bare in a half filled closet and one lonely pillow lays waiting
and the cold edges of the comforter touch me where you're not
even the greeting cards become just paper and ink
and the medication doesn't stop the tears
and I feel half filled too

I need more words than my only language has to lend
to explain the ways I hurt over having to give you up
I had no use for a heart when I found you and mine always made a fist
now I can remember so clearly all the reasons

why I never take the risks