— a poem of potpourris.

Let Me Go, In-between.

Let’s not let the past take control.

Photo by cottonbro from Pexels

What this feeling?
endlessly choking and lurking about
What does it hold underneath?
Merely malice, just as I feared.

I know he’s here with me
but why doesn’t it feel like it?
Why does it matter, all of a sudden,
when they never had any weight?

Why does it matter?
His past; his scars,
healed yet see-through,
Why is she present?
The malevolent runaway who destroys life
out of hate and discontent.

They shouldn’t matter.
They happened before I arrived
to collect what he is and isn’t
that’s scattered across the void.

She doesn’t matter
Not now; not anymore
It’s entirely up to me to have him
or to not at all.

Let me go, in-between.