Written Freedom.
I
write to free myself from the feelings that hurt.
I
write to take away the tingles and the tears.
When
I write I don’t think of the lack of cuddling.
I
don’t think of the lack of butterfly and Eskimo kisses.
I
forget the smell of his cologne.
I
don’t remember how it felt to fall asleep in the cuddle position.
Or
to wake up in his arms.
When
I write I’m free.
I
didn’t fall asleep in another man’s arms.
I
didn’t let him kiss my neck and my breasts.
I
didn’t let him hold me against the wall.
Or
lay me down on the floor.
When
I write, things are simpler.
There
isn’t the pressure to make up my mind with what I had.
Or
what I might have.
I’m
not thinking about what I know I threw away.
I’m
not feeling sorry for myself because it was my choice.
And
now I’m alone.
They
were my actions.
His
kisses on my lips.
When
I write I am free.
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