Let go

They:
"SHE LOVED YOU, WHY DON'T YOU-"

HE:
Every day my heart pleads,
When eyes stain.
Maybe just one more glance of sight
Or the last whisper of your lovely voice.
Craving for your memories,
Even in my dreams.
But it's time to let you go.

I hear them gossip, "It Was Easy For Him"
But no one knows
_ The pain of piercing his own heart to bleed
  And let her go💔

~Varsha_Srinivasan

If I had meant that much to you
You’d have made a way to see it through
A plan to try and keep me yours
But that subject… still a little sore
So, I’ll venture out and close that door
Because I was living long before
And now I’m free to live some more
                      Just without you

To throw away:

The hammer pants I wore
the day we met in person,
faded pattern and hole in knee
you said you would patch
for the memory

10 greeting cards signed by me
for Valentine's, birthday, anniversary.
21 post-it notes with "I ❤️ U"
once hidden around our bedroom
reminders from me, to you.

3 Greeting cards, scribbled by you
2 Given late, 1 on time
asking for *** on Valentine's

The set of knives and cutting block
to you for Christmas, rusted through
you soaked but never washed.
The owl mug, your first gift to me
that fell from my desk, handle broken
tossed instead of lost.

The practice leggings, now too loose,
stretched, and not your size
you "borrowed" and continued to wear
ignoring they were mine.

To wash, febreeze, rest and reset:

The jacket I bought for me,
that became yours when you arrived,
sans winter clothes,
donated, now. Surprise!

The mattress we bought together,
After I cried and begged for hours,
The box spring my then-bestie donated
to me, but you claimed was "ours"

The soft, memorable fabric, on which
I wanted no one else to sit,
my Poppy's Lay-Z-boy,
about which you threw a fit.

The car I gained when I kicked you out,
that I keep cleaner than you would.
My space, my heart, my dignity,
my house and personhood.

I'm made of cobwebs, shaded grays,
echos faded by the murky streetlight;
Festive blobs signal the holidays -
and ricochet off me into the night.
.
A thick, dull fog 'tween me and them,
a brick wall no one can see;
seamless weights in my hem,
and dust inside what used to be me.
.
And then there's you, a year away,
wasted tears, and prayers null;
an end thought for each void day,
a whisper-scratch in my old hull.
.
The words avoid me, skittish things,
like birds that flutter fragile wings;
the right ones are only fledglings,
too young for new beginnings.
.
And I wish that I could care for cold,
worn out flat 'tween mortar and pestle,
a forlorn growth ring in a tree of old,
trapped inside a rotting vessel.
.
.

My girlfriend turned to me, her eyes searching for clarity.
“When we first crossed paths, we were nothing but good friends.
Do we still share that bond, that genuine care for one another as true
friends do?”

With conviction, I replied,
             “Absolutely, yes.”

She paused, her expression shifting as she continued,
“Then perhaps it’s best we remain just friends. Even without the
romance, I could never bear to lose the precious connection we
forged at the beginning.

                                                                AS FRIENDS.”

I think you know, and I never will,
What's going on in your mind so still
And not. You just can't open up, that's fine -
I've told you what exists in mine.
I wonder sometimes if you know it all too loud.
But know this too, and I'm not proud
That I'm saying this, but I lost my pride
When I let you in and you let yourself slide,
As slick the years-abandoned edge of a kitchen knife,
Back out of my DMs, if you will, out of my life
You changed in the course of a few days - Well,
I'm grateful for the Heaven that you made into H*ll.

When I die... I'm not going to die, that's old news,
You couldn't try, or do, or fix, or choose -
You loved me because I was my own woman,
And you maybe couldn't deal with that, man,
Either. But know this - I remember what it is, now,
To wear lipstick and my hair up, though I recall how
You loved me natural. I remember what it is to be courted,
Though you gave me enough of that, and we thwarted
Jealousy, you and I. I remember what it is to smile,
Though I blushed in your sight in a way that I'll
Maybe never blush again. Just to say, Benya, I loved you,
But I also now remember what it is to love myself, too.

We started with a blank, cracked wall
Hands shaking, we began to thaw
With every stroke, a world took form,
A story began, vibrant and warm.

I filled in the cracks, with thin veins of gold
Figured it'd last, and covered ugly with bold.
Excited to start, I sank into thought,
But you quietly noticed I had missed some spots.

The first layer was bright, unrestrained,
Colors of joy we couldn’t contain
We painted sunsets, golden and vast
Believing that forever would last.

You taught me to blend the shades of the sky,
I showed you the beauty in the colors of night.
Together, we built a world so grand,
Each stroke a testament to what we’d planned.

But soon, the brushes began to fray
People stared, and called us by names
We argued over colors, shapes, and space,
Yet somehow kept painting, pace by pace.

The mural grew heavy with pain and mistakes
We painted thunderstorms, chaos, and rain.
Still, tears watered flowers into bloom,
A stubborn hope shining through the gloom.

The onlookers left, but the rain eroded
Behind the clouds, faded veins of gold corroded
The thunder faded, and I blindly rejoiced
Unknowingly, I had cemented your choice

One day I looked up, to find in dismay
Your brushes abandoned, your colors turned gray.
I stood by the wall, lost and unsure,
Facing a masterpiece that felt like a blur.

With trembling hands, I picked up the brush,
In the deafening silence, my own sobs turned to hush.
I painted alone, though your colors remained,
Ghostly imprints of joy and pain.

A lighthouse painted, its beacon dim,
Two figures either side, watching it spin.
Fields of poppies, you had once made vibrant and lush,
Accidentally smeared under my hesitant brush.

My paint dryed up, eyes beckoned by sleep
A lifetime sprawled in colors and feats.
I stand before it, heart in my throat,
People walk by, unaware of what's wrote.

There’s the golden sun, where we began,
And the rain-soaked earth where our troubles ran.
The images we painted together sing,
While my final strokes frame them clumsily.

And yet, I marvel at what we’ve made,
The laughter, the love, the dreams that stayed.
It’s cracked, raw, and painfully true,
A testament to both me and you.

I step back now, my brushes laid down,
The mural is finished—its truths resound.
Alone, I face this mural we’ve drawn,
And wonder what it means to move on.