Let go

I’ve been holding on so tight to his memory.

The sound of his voice.

The shape of his face.

The form of his words.

My knuckles are white.

Let go.

A whisper, so soft yet clear.

I want to ignore it.

If I let go, he might be gone forever.

Let go.

Please, don’t make me.

It’s all I have left of him.

Let go.

I feel my grip tighten.

No, I wont.

What are you holding on to?

I look down at my fists and slowly open my hands.

They are empty.

I’ve been clinging onto air.

Because he’s already gone.

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About samlobos

I am an avid fan of creating narratives in my head about random experiences and quotes for future books I will probably not write. I harbor a 15 year old girl in my psyche and like to solve world issues when I'm half asleep. View all posts by samlobos

6 responses to “Let go

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