Today I stumbled over a page in my journal
that read:

“One day I will write about
your rubber gloves
And how each time they entered me
They delivered desperate hope
And how every time they exited me
They took with them a piece of my soul
I thought I’d never get back.”

Well, here I am,
speaking my truths,
moving the words etched in memories
from my brain
to my mouth
in hopes that the pain of you will float away
with the words as they are spoken aloud,
lost syllables in the wind

So, here are the words
I choose to move on from you with:

I do not hate you
I pity you
I am not angry
I am sorrowful

I do not wish I never met you
For I would have never grown

Because I never believed in love
until I met you
And I never…