It’s time that I release you
From the center of my orbit
The well-planned life of ours
Was quickly, yet methodically,
Scrawled out on the parchment of my mind,
Since the moment I felt it right to begin
(not the first time we met, but the second).
The story seemed to just flow
From somewhere within,
So much so that it became real
— Not flesh and blood real, but like a scene in a movie–
Polished, perfect, false.
False like the good dreams we all wake up from,
That we can replay in our minds, and that we can feel.
But when I wake up, what I see in front of me tells the bitter truth,
And I have to start again.
Press the release lever, slide the roller to the left;
It reverberates with a ding! and I sigh.
Rip the paper out, and crumple it up in a fist.
Let it wind up in the garbage bin titled
“It never was, and it never will be.”
But there on the table, white paper lies, like quiet hope.
Insert this in the machine of my mind again,
Take a deep breath; consider once more.
And yet the only letters I can type spell the truth so clear:
I need to let you go
But it’s incomplete.
The changes that need to be made screaming out in a still, small voice
That wants to add, the truth that must be said:
I need to let you, God.