Letting Go

I sat at the café, the hum of the crowd,

where your laughter still echoed, a sound wrapped in shrouds.

The chair across from me, untouched, just a space,

reminding me gently of a time, of a face.

I tried to piece together the cracks in your heart,

but love isn’t glue—it’s a stubborn old art.

The moment you slipped through the cracks of my grasp,

I finally accepted the need for release, for the past.