When I know something is not meant for me, I have learned to let go. That is not a weakness. Rather I am doing the right thing for myself by fighting the urge of wanting what is not good for me. How much I love you is not worth the misery it brings. C.P.
Love doesn’t go out like a light
or with a bang.
It passes away
as slow as honey drips
onto your morning toast.
Love clings to your being
just as wet clothes to skin,
but clothes dry
and so will your tears.
The nights become simpler
and the waves of unbearable heat
grow to be short flashes of subtle warmth,
and soon love will be
just a distant pang in the right back corner
of your still-beating heart.
From a poem found at http://poetrysync.blogspot.com/2013/07/