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Letting go

Writer's picture: Crystal YarboroughCrystal Yarborough

Updated: Jun 17, 2019


Maybe I held on because you seemed to say the right things

You made the right moves

I gripped too tightly because it seemed like the right thing to do

Then there was a brief moment

You tugged on the rope with more strength than I did

My grip began to slip

I became weak

All I wanted was to let go

My hands burned

They were the brightest shade of red

My hands hurt now more than they ever have

Yet here you are still pulling

Gripping harder than I am

I just want to let go

I need to let go

But I don’t want you to fall

 

This poem is a prequel to the last post on Midnight Hour. Remember in the previous post where I mentioned that I unintentionally put my then boyfriend through the same thing I did? If not then the quick recap is that I had went through the worst pain I have ever experienced and everything that I was processing I put him through. I hurt him the same way that I was hurt. This goes along with that not knowing how to let him go. He was so sweet and caring and his emotions were so strong that it was like a current I couldn’t get away from them. His love was such a foreign emotion that I didn’t know how to react to it. That’s what I meant when I said “You tugged on the rope with more strength than I did.'' I had to loosen my hold on us because I no longer had my footing, I couldn’t figure out where my love was supposed to go. When I wrote this it was around the time that I realized I was starting to become toxic. I realized that he was deeper in the hole than I was. His feelings were stronger than mine. In the beginning it was a balanced tug of the rope. We were on the same page. Then it was like a whistle was blown and we just kept going back and forth until he gained strength and pulled the roper harder than I was. I tried holding on. I tried bringing the rope back to the middle so that we could be even again. That’s why my hands turned red, rope burn, because of how strong he was pulling. He was pulling with desperation hoping that we could work out the way he wanted us to. That’s what this is about. Who had the most influence on how we would turn out, how would we work out, who got to be the lead in this dance we were doing. I knew I needed to let go the moment I felt my grip loosen but I couldn’t face those consequences. I didn’t want to be the reason that he fell in the dirt. I didn’t want him to fall down a dark hole and feel every bump on his way down. So I continued to play the game.

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