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Let Her Go

This is not a story!

You can stop reading now.

No?

Okay then…let’s carry on, shall we.

 

You were my sister. The one whose smile meant dawn. The one whose arms meant safety; safety from thorns that came with the roses life handed out. The one God intended to show me angels were real…

Angels are real.

But they also fall from grace.

And oh how they do fall?

Oh how we have fallen

From grace

From love

From the nests we built with our dreams

I don’t remember the moment I stopped loving you. Was it the morning I failed God and like a falling star, kept looking for that one person who would break my fall? Was it the night I almost lost myself and you weren’t there to find me even though we swore we would always be there for each other on those kind of nights? Was it the tiny things or was it the meteors that destroyed us?

I woke up one morning and I had stopped loving you. Our fathers speak in proverbs and warnings about bath water and babies. Our mothers tell us bridges are meant to be built and not burned. But I set fire to the rain and watched it burn with no tears in my eyes.

Sometimes I miss you.

I lie in bed and wonder how you are. If you miss me. If you realize how much you hurt me. If you know I am never coming back. If you have been to the fortune tellers and they have told you, there is no me in your future.

Sometimes I miss you. I miss your laughter. I miss your weakness because It let me be strong. I miss your needing me because it made me want to be more.

But in these world with 7 billion souls, all clamoring for relevance, missing you times are fewer and father between.

Sometimes I want to take it all back. I want to ask the dust back for the friendship I gave up to it. I want to pick up the phone and call you. I want to say sorry even though I am really not. But I am the child of warriors, the daughter of those who would never have turned to salt because there was nothing, nothing they left behind that they would have gone back for.

So I wait a moment or two and the urge to pick up the phone passes. Once it does, I realize, I don’t even have your number anymore.

That is when I laugh.

That is when I know that I am over you.

 

Song of the day: Passenger- Let Her Go

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1 Comment

  1. Mustapha Sheikh Abdullah April 23, 2014 Reply

    Sisterhood was once lost in the woods , but she was found by you ! Your writ is sung with lamentations of someone swimming between a tide of being wronged and feeling the wrongdoer , I fed my soul with the Palpitating tempo of this writ , I am in awe …..

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