walk away

Sometimes, I just need permission to slam the door shut.
Lock it.
Turn around.
Walk away.

I need you to tell me it's ok to do that.
To forgive.
And then prevent the hurt from happening again.

This morning, with the rain, I let it be washed away.

Something deep rooted.
Something long lasting.
Something painfully shallow.
Something painful.

I will not allow it to hurt me anymore.
I will not hold on to possibility.
Or the 'what if' of what lies ahead.

Letting go proves itself to be the hardest thing.
Strange, since I never truly wanted it in the first place.
Perhaps it's not the letting go.

It's the unknown.
It's the hatefulness put on me.
It's the absorption of scorn.

I needed permission.
And I got it.
"Go ahead," He whispered.  "You know the answer."

And I wonder if the hardest lesson is choosing to do the healthy thing, at the risk of being hated.

Shake my head,
knowing this shouldn't even be an issue.
This should not have taken up so much of my time.

But isn't that how it is?
We waste it all,
on the most undeserving.