I thought it up, and wrote it down.

So I’m starting to realize that perhaps it wasn’t you I was so in love with.  So drawn into.  Perhaps I had nowhere else to put all my intense love feelings, so I let you hold on to them.  You aren’t the one for me and I know that now.  Love shouldn’t start as a desperate struggle, an uphill battle, a goal for attention or a prize to be won.  I am claiming my love.  I am taking it back.  Putting it onto myself.  All you are to me now is a vacant body whom once held my most precious gift but today is an empty picture frame that used to hold a memory. 

I’m letting go of you.
I’m letting go of you.

I’m letting go of you.

Goodbye.  You are not my lesson to learn any longer.  You are not my illusory version of a love story where I become the exception to your rule, the missing piece, the epiphany, the phenomenon.

I leave you not with anger or regret, but with acceptance.  It isn’t that my waist isn’t small enough, my hair isn’t thick enough, my ass isn’t round enough.  It’s that, I know a secret that you will never know.  You will never know because you will never ask.  And I will never volunteer it to a deaf ear or a blind eye.