There is a moment when you realize that maybe you can let go.
You realize maybe there is hope out there for your heart, and you latch on to that. You dig your nails in and scratch and claw at that hope no matter the struggle.
That hope is what keeps you afloat. That hope is the light at the end of the tunnel. There has to be a day in the future where you wake up and breathe and live and your mind doesn’t wander to the pain of the love you lost. There will be a day when your heart doesn’t feel like the pulpy after math of an apple shot by a bullet.
One day, you will meet someone new whose smile pulls at those heart strings you didn’t know still existed. They will tell you you’re beautiful and tuck a strand of hair behind your ear. They will kiss your forehead, and it won’t remind you of the other one. The hope you were clawing at before is now surrounding you, embracing you.
And then one day, you will pass the love lost on the street. The memories will come, but they will not accost you. They will simply blow by you, like a slight breeze. Maybe they will leave a trail of goose flesh on your arm. But they will not gut you. They will not destroy you.
You will smile. They will smile. And you will keep going.