Sitting on a Wall

I had to let them go.

Again.

The first time to see if they will come back to you. The second to teach yourself that they won't.

Every day the leaving is a little easier. Turn those pockets inward. Holes and all.

Up the stairs. And down them. The only difference is what I carry with me when. Shedding shadows. Not wanting to see the light. Because I remember how dark it was to see for the first time.

And we all fall down.

No one to put us back together.