Let the letting go.

Let the letting go.
Seattle, WA

You are not the kind.  I knew.
Not kind, unselfish, deserving.

You required unwinding, and the ask
from me
to unravel bindings
crusted by burst blisters
from the years’ angry messes.

Tongueing your salt-rimmed wounds,
you walk away.

Silly me
to try
to put a fleam in a flat palm,
and hope for an assist
for a therapeutic phlebotomy.

Taking to my own skin
with nails and teeth
and sharps that fit my grasp;
blood-letting humors that smell of you
marinated in muddled strawberries;
you, with a durian-fragrant tarred and toxic taste.

At last,
I am letting
the letting go
to the end
of you.

2 thoughts on “Let the letting go.

  1. That’s a very poignant note. Provocative. Makes me want to hold you and say “it will be alright.” And it will.


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