Monday, 17 March 2014

“Sometimes love means letting go when you want to hold on tighter.” - Melissa Marr.

I thought about all the men in my life that had let me go.

Fredrick let me go in front of the hundred people we invited to witness our marriage. I was in my beautiful white wedding dress, looking at him with my hopeful eyes, full of love when he said he couldn't get married, that he wasn't ready. He walked out and got married to some other girl a month later.

John let me go in his alcohol reeking apartment, with careless words, in between rough kisses full of indifference, with his hands grabbing my ass so I could feel his hardness. The following months were full of pain and emptiness.

My dad let me and my mom go when he left for that dancer at his regular nightclub, who was way younger than she looked in her over exposed bleached worn out skin in the black skimpy dress she wore, she chewed her gum aggressively as she watched my dad throw my mom out of the house sneering in satisfaction.

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