I think I’m ready to loosen my grip now not let go completely but just enough to let the color come back to my hands and let the burns heal

I think I’m ready to loosen my grip now not let go completely but just enough to let the color come back to my hands and let the burns heal. I fought and fought because I know this is the last thing keeping me tied to you. The scars on my hands stack up each one deeper as you pull away. I tighten the rope every time you do and I’m scared these scars will be the only thing left of you. So I keep tugging hoping you’ll feel my presence, even if it’s just a breeze or a scent that reminds you of me. There’s some peace in knowing that even though we’re apart we’re still connected in this weird way. I refuse to let go so you can’t really move on either. I loosen my grip and you slip right into someone else’s hold, but I’m still caught in what we made. It wasn’t perfect it wasn’t clean but every piece was something we built. Now it’s just a mess on the floor but this one tight thread I’m holding on to pulls me through your path. What we made together is just my hands holding on to this last tether. It’s too tight and I can’t undo these knots alone. I’m not ready to fully let go but maybe if I ease up you’ll feel it slip and grab it before it’s gone.

Last updated on:2025-01-17T17:50:45+05:30