The Love That Taught Me to Let Go

 “Above all else, guard your heart, for everything you do flows from it.”

— Proverbs 4:23 (NIV)

There’s a certain kind of healing that comes from not turning away from the ache.
I’ve learned to sit with it.
To cry when it calls for tears.
To ask the questions that may never find answers.
And then, slowly, it begins to fade.

Their voice becomes a memory, not a melody.
Their touch no longer lingers in my skin.
Their scent, their name, their absence—I release it all.
Not out of bitterness, but out of survival.

Eventually, someone new comes along.
They bring warmth, attention, presence.
They show me the version of love I had been offering all along,
only now, I’m the one receiving.

Still, the questions whisper in the quiet.

Why did you give up on us?
Why couldn’t you see me?
Was I ever enough for you?
Did we mean anything at all?

The pain wasn’t just in the loss,
it was in how completely I showed up,
only to be told I was too much.
Not because I was overwhelming—
but because they were underprepared.

They took all that I was,
and left without explanation.
No closure, no accountability—
just echoes and the mess I had to clean up alone.

I’m no longer the woman who waits for love to catch up.
I’ve stopped calling.
Stopped justifying.
Stopped offering myself to people who only take.

Once, I gave endlessly to be chosen.
Now, I choose myself.
And any love that comes my way must meet me there—whole, honest, and unafraid.

To the woman who came after me:
you might think I was the one who lost.
But one day, you’ll understand.
You were next.

I’ve learned my lesson.
Love is not worth losing myself for.

Only mutual love gets access.
Only real love gets kept.
Everything else gets released.