DETACHMENT

I wanted to write you,

I probably make detachment feel so easy by leaving your messages unread, saying lesser words when you are near. 

Shutting my nostrils from your smell

Avoiding visiting places where we both went. 

I make detachment look so easy. 

But I actually hate the idea of smelling you everywhere. 

I have a confession to make. 

Yes, We dined, we laughed, heck, we cheered. We had good time and now I make it look like it didn’t count. 

I bet you don’t believe the kisses we shared and the way I settled into your chest.

Heck, I couldn’t keep it on. 

The thought of the fact that you don’t want to stay. 

You are finding hard time deciding if this is for us.

I hate that I have to tell myself to get over you.

It took me weeks to grow into you.

To memorize your body.

To get used to you.

Your jokes were starting to get funny.

Journeying with you would have made sense.

I was beginning to learn to hold your hands without fear.

Wrote an entire book to help you know my fears, you are now one of my fears

I understand that you mean well.

And I hate that I warned myself from making you home.

I got comfortable, I let you near and I hate myself for my vulnerability.

I make detachment easy because I can’t stay stuck on your jokes, I don’t want your laughter to be the only good thing I know.

We deserve good. I like me a soul who puts a fight out for me. I want home. 

I make detachment easy by convincing myself that although it hurts, it’s for the best. 

And the truth is, I also regret the trust that I grew to have in what we shared. 

Taking out pictures, erasing emails, forgetting the smile of your face, putting aside your middle name. I mistakenly called you babe, all of these I have erased.

I have to make detachment look easy. I owe that to myself: to forget the taste of your lips, to throw out the things you left with me.

To move past all of these? I have to make detachment easy.

I was hoping we’d travel to another city,  get tickets to worship seating. I made plans in my head.

I thought this was what we wanted, but I hate myself for the hope I built. I don’t fault you for anything, we have the right to choose. 

I would have hated you if you picked me and made a mess of me.

But in all things, I give thanks for the good while with you.

I serve myself a sentence, a priority note to hasten and get over you.

I make detachment easy because I hate being stuck and I need to get over old love to have new one to give.

I owe that to myself atleast.

It’s not like detachment is easy, I just have to have like it..