I let you run
So good!
(back of mind i see JC with mop and bucket, calling out, “did you save any hot water?”)
Hahaha now this is accurate. “Hello in there!!! Turn the water off!!”
Don't. ❤️
Sending hugs. Love this.
♥️♥️♥️
❤️💙❤️💙❤️
Sheesh, woman.💔
Yes. Just… yes.
thank you ♥️
Sometimes you just need to let go.
This poem feels like someone quietly admitting how easy it is to let things spill out of control when you’re hurting.
I love how the overflowing bath becomes a stand‑in for all the emotions left running long after they should’ve been stopped.
The repetition of “I let it run” sounds like someone confessing something they’ve avoided saying out loud.
The mix of alcohol, silence, and an unanswered “I miss you” hits with a very real kind of loneliness.
There’s a numbness in these lines that feels heavier than the sadness itself.
The moment of holding their head under water isn’t dramatic it’s tired, worn‑out, the kind of pain that sneaks up on you.
The whole scene reads like someone trying to feel something, anything, in the middle of being ignored.
The water, the cold, the mess everything mirrors a love that slipped away and left a hollow space behind.
And that final line, “I let you run,” ties it all together with a quiet, devastating honesty.
It’s a short poem, but it leaves a long, lingering ache.
Wow! Thank you for seeing this exactly how it was meant to be seen and felt ♥️
I hope you can finally throw that baby out.
I am so glad you turned off the tap. Cold water is just no good. You took the polar plunge and now it is time for the warm, pink, fuzzy blanket. I found delicious comfort, 24 years ago today and today he bought me a freezer.
So good!
(back of mind i see JC with mop and bucket, calling out, “did you save any hot water?”)
Hahaha now this is accurate. “Hello in there!!! Turn the water off!!”
Don't. ❤️
Sending hugs. Love this.
♥️♥️♥️
❤️💙❤️💙❤️
Sheesh, woman.💔
♥️♥️♥️
Yes. Just… yes.
thank you ♥️
Sometimes you just need to let go.
This poem feels like someone quietly admitting how easy it is to let things spill out of control when you’re hurting.
I love how the overflowing bath becomes a stand‑in for all the emotions left running long after they should’ve been stopped.
The repetition of “I let it run” sounds like someone confessing something they’ve avoided saying out loud.
The mix of alcohol, silence, and an unanswered “I miss you” hits with a very real kind of loneliness.
There’s a numbness in these lines that feels heavier than the sadness itself.
The moment of holding their head under water isn’t dramatic it’s tired, worn‑out, the kind of pain that sneaks up on you.
The whole scene reads like someone trying to feel something, anything, in the middle of being ignored.
The water, the cold, the mess everything mirrors a love that slipped away and left a hollow space behind.
And that final line, “I let you run,” ties it all together with a quiet, devastating honesty.
It’s a short poem, but it leaves a long, lingering ache.
Wow! Thank you for seeing this exactly how it was meant to be seen and felt ♥️
I hope you can finally throw that baby out.
I am so glad you turned off the tap. Cold water is just no good. You took the polar plunge and now it is time for the warm, pink, fuzzy blanket. I found delicious comfort, 24 years ago today and today he bought me a freezer.