I remember love like a tight fist,
Afraid to lose, determined to hold on.
A sharp, cold twist,
If he smiled at a girl, my heart was gone.
I wanted him like a trophy to claim,
A prize I had to win and keep by force.
Love then was a possessive game,
A demanding, jealous course.
Now I see his joy, a life not mine,
And yes, a small ache still lives inside.
I know the beautiful, painful line:
That could have been mine. I cannot hide.
But a new feeling rises, strong and true:
If he is happy, if he is cared for well,
Then that good fortune is enough, too.
It breaks the old, possessive spell.
I no longer need to own his days.
I can let him go and wish him light.
Love has found better, softer ways—
It shines for his good, morning, noon, and night.
It's painful truth, but it is honest grace:
To love him freely, from this distant place.
Unclenched feels like a baby's dreaming face,
A swift parade of sadness, joy, and sigh.
I watch the thoughts rush by in silent space,
And feel them all—a tear, a sudden high.
The mixture floods, a wide, internal sea,
Yet in my eyes, the waters do not break.
I am lost in thought, but finally free,
To feel the truth, for goodness' honest sake.
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