Not in the sense that I usually get
to think of what the brain selects
to keep or to clear away.
No.
It's much more similar to let her go;
to let her light illuminate
one more person, another soul.
Though myself possessed,
I no longer long for possession—
maybe up I've grown.
Probably not,
but I let her go.
I lie.
I kept a thought as candle
which I'll carefully handle
not to let go of her light.
A match called emotion
will be stricken in a future night;
forth will come a flame
to lend the candle its glow.
The flickery shadow—me—
lonely cast on the wall
in the room of memories
will sanctify my feat.
So I let her go.
