Nicole Mē | Original Poetry | Original Spoken Word Poetry

In June

In June I let go of your hand

and found by July (the 4th, perhaps)
that I had my independence.

I hadn't known it was something I wanted
_ All those days into nightmares and dreams into months.
Wasted.

I thought that I should hold on like a child;
that if I let go I would prove you right in your doubt.

Though I knew I was true blue.

And my free hand shakes the other and says "you survived".

And that is the end of the story
_ no malice just self love.