The Art of Letting Go

In the quiet hours where shadows dwell,

A heart aches softly, too tender to tell.

The weight of love, now turned to stone,

Echoes of whispers, now left alone.

The room still holds your lingering scent,

A ghost of joy, a love once spent.

Memories bloom like flowers in frost,

Beauty entwined with all that’s lost.

Fingers trace where yours once stayed,

On skin now cold, where warmth once played.

The silence speaks in tones of gray,

Of words unsaid, of the love that strayed.

Letting go is an artist's feat,

A brush dipped in sorrow, yet bittersweet.

Each stroke a step, each tear a hue,

Painting a path from “we” to “you.”

Forgiveness whispers like a gentle stream,

Not for the wounds, but for the dream.

It cleanses the cracks, it soothes the pain,

Turning the loss into soft refrain.

The art lies not in forgetting the past,

But in freeing the grip, the shadows cast.

To hold the hurt is to chain the soul,

But release makes the broken whole.

So, piece by piece, the heart repairs,

Through love once known and quiet prayers.

For in the act of letting go,

We learn to heal, to thrive, to grow.