The Moment I Let Go

On this rooftop, where stars scrape the sky,

I stand, a silhouette against the night’s sigh.

Fear clings like damp mist to my skin,

Anger hums low, a storm trapped within.

Your memory, a ghost, weaves through my bones,

Heavy as iron, cold as river stones.

The city pulses, a heartbeat below,

Lights flicker like dreams that refuse to grow.

I unclench my fists, let the wind take its toll,

Each breath a release, each gust frees my soul.

Fear falls first, a shadow torn apart,

Shredded by starlight, no weight on my heart.

Anger follows, a ember gone dim,

Its heat now a whisper, no longer grim.

And you—oh, your name, once carved in my core,

Slips like sand through fingers, not mine anymore.

The rooftop trembles, or maybe it’s me,

As I shed these chains and set myself free.

No roar, no cry, just a quiet exhale,

The world feels lighter, like a ship catching sail.

The moment I let go, the stars seem to sing,

A chorus of freedom, a boundless new spring.