To the lover after you …

I come with suitcases. Most people do. Mine are full of words and wounds, and that time he said it wouldn’t work. When I never once considered it was him not me that was broken.

I’ve been carrying this for years. All that heavy. Maybe I could put the contents at your feet some day? All the damaged things, and how they’ll look little in the light, because half of what I carried never really belonged to me.

His baggage weighed me down for years – but I’m lighter than air, you’ll see. Was. Will be.

And I’m looking for a safer place to land.

Rock Leaving

time for letting go …

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