Letting Go Is an Acquired Taste

by Christina Hart

Some things they can never take with them, so if they want to leave, let them.

For years I had been holding on to men who no longer wished

fuck, your lips were mine. They were always supposed to be mine.

I was holding on to you. I was holding on to us. And it was killing me.

I am still not good enough, and I am too good for him.

I am still learning that some things are too hot to touch.

sometimes it is better to walk away.

I promised myself I’d never let myself fall for green eyes and beautiful lies and words that felt like knives ever again.

It’s so much easier being alone. I know the ways I can hurt me.

I turned too many shades of blue choking on all the things I wanted to say to you.

it still hurts but not in the same way it used to.

For once, words aren’t enough. I need someone to prove it.

I can still picture your eyes looking at your phone as you told me it was no one. It wasn’t.

Promises always tasted sweeter coming from the lips of someone who would never keep them.

There is beauty in the challenge.

There is a bitter hurt in the...

What were we fighting about? I am trying to remember. It was stupid. It was usually stupid, the things we fought about. The

Your magic. Your laugh. Fuck. I remember that. I remember your laugh.

I am trying to remember how to try to forget.

“You are the love of my life.” I am trying to forget that you said that.