Letters : The Art of Letting Go

The pieces of parchment lie there before my eyes.
Just waiting to be torn and thrown into the eternal flames

If I burn them, I can forget it all.
Finally break free of the spots of black inked in my brain.
Those memories. Those thoughts.

If I burn them, I can let go.
But I catch them staring into my soulless eyes.
Begging to be opened and read aloud.
“You know you need me” they scream.
“Those nights you would sacrifice your slumber for us”.
” Those nights you would water us with the magic in your tears”
“Those nights you would stab us with dark ink like your life depended on it”.
” Because your life does depend on it”.
“On us”.

I grab the letters as the memories flood back in.
The barriers in my submerged mind being too weak. Like always.
A certain part of my life flashing before my eyes.
It’s calling me.
But I cannot go back.
I cannot burn them.

But then I realise, I do not need to burn them in order to let them go.
They will be etched in the back of my memory forever, but they do not need to affect me now.
I need to make my peace with it. I shall not affect me anymore.
Those letters will just remain a memory, a memory of all the hard times I have passed
and all the heights I have conquered.
They now remain a symbol of strength.