Goodbye, my muse…
I think it's time to rest this humble heart of mine.
I think it's time to set this love aside,
move forward to the horizons, and let the stars align.
Seek the future that I have yet to find.
A future without you, nor the essence of you.
A resolve to myself and a betrayal to you.
Original poem by Sylla (me)
No one talks about the pain of letting go of your muse.
No one knows the feeling of genuinely giving up on them rather than them giving up on you.
It’s a hard feeling, cold and painful, but all that's necessary.
Your heart strings sting when you remember them, get inspired by them, but no more.
No more of that heart game where everything aches and everything just falls into an abysmal state of longing, yearning, wishing, and hoping for them to give you an ounce of something, a look, a like, a text, a call.
Hoping for their heart the way you offered yours to them.
Naïveté artiste that is what I am, for I have longed, yearned, wished, and hoped for my muse to be in my arms again, my heart and brain flooding with the thought of them. Longing, hoping that maybe one day they will be back; they will come back, surely they will; they always do…right? I was a fool to ever think of that, an optimist, a hopeless romantic, longing for someone who doesn't look me in the eyes, someone who was once mine, someone who crushed my heart into a million fragments of glass.
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Now I am no longer blind to the love that I once felt; sure, I still love them, after all, they have been a part of my life for so long. I could not throw away those memories that easily; I’m not heartless as much as I want to be; I could never be. No matter how much I lie to myself and pretend to the world that I don't care anymore, I still do care about them; I still love them. I am a liar to myself and to the world that I no longer feel.
I don't want to feel anything about them anymore, yet I do; what a fool am I. Now I will not listen to this heart of mine, and listen to my brain; I will become the heartless person that I wish I was and was once. I will leave him and the memories in the past. I need to make room for me and the future, not be stuck here in the past, that I rewind in my head over and over again, all to relish in the memories that have passed.
It's all necessary, for being stuck here in the past and the memories will rot me with nothing more than flavourless, candy-scented cologne. The love that I gave is a love not wasted because I gave my all and I gave it truthfully. It wasn't lost; I wasn't asking it to be reciprocated. I was fine with it even if I hurt myself deeply by not giving myself the respect that I so preach. “I respect myself,” I said it casually back then; now I will act on it. I respect myself; all I have is myself, so I will respect myself.
I bid you goodbye, my lovely muse. I have loved, will love, and still love you, but I love myself as well; I need to love myself more, oh dear muse. A resolve to me but a betrayal to you, a sacrifice that I have to make for myself. So goodbye, my dear. I hope that I can see you soon; maybe in the future it will be us again, but now we will part. I hope that you miss me and find me, and that when you find me, you will love me again, with your heart, soul, and all.
Hoping for your love again in the future…
Everlovingly yours,
Sylla
