Step One: Giving Up
It’s easier to believe that you will come back to me. That is the safety reflex, the first line of defense against myself. But you’re not coming back. You’ve found someone else. It may take time, but like they say, time can heal anything. After countless hours of waiting by the window, and searching every face that passes, it finally hits me. And I’m prepared to try to let go.

Step Two: Forgetting
I try and forget you. Your face. Your name. Those cute dimples you got when you smiled. How you’d bite your lip from sexual frustration whenever I wore one of your oversized tee-shirts. The smell of that enticing cologne you wore just for me. And most likely for her… That’s another thing I want to forget. Why ‘we’ turned into ‘you’ and then ‘me’. I want to erase all those nights I cried. I should probably apologize to my pillow, it did not deserve my tears and screams and beatings because of you. You should have dealt with that. Not my poor pillow.
Regrettably there is no way to properly cope with you. I’ve written many hate filled letters only just to burn them, I’ve blasted my music to get the sound of your voice out of my head, and successfully went through three cartons of moose tracks ice cream in two weeks. But not even chocolate can cure this.

Step Three: Moving Forward
I tore apart my room looking for anything that you have given me or reminds me of you. My closet seems emptier without your hoodies and shirts. My walls seem bare because all the pictures of us are missing. My bed is no longer decorated with the countless stuffed animals you won me at carnivals or given to me for Valentine’s Day. My radio no longer plays the CDs you created for us. It’s all been boxed up and dropped off on your door step. But I don’t want you to give anything back that I gave you, only my heart. I need that back.
I have found someone new. His lips trace the same paths you created on my body, like you burned a trail into my skin. I’m afraid to return his gaze because he may see you in the reflection of my eyes. He smells strongly of smoke and his lips taste like nicotine, but I’m not addicted to him like I was to you. I have decided I suck at moving on.

Step Four: Letting Go
You visited me today. There were tears in your eyes and roses in your hands. You begged me to come back to you; that you didn’t mean anything you said. You told me you have lost sleep without me and that you have lost weight too. It’s been three years since I last spoke to you, but now I embrace you. You don’t know I am doing this though. You can never feel my touch again. You visit me annually; every year on December 12 you come to see me, to apologize. I had to let go somehow. I wish you would have told me how much I meant to you when I was breathing.