Where the year ends, so does the pain

JJ A.

I’ll let the pain hurt me

until December 31.

I won’t fight it.

I won’t soften it.

But when the clock strikes twelve

and the fireworks tear the sky open,

that’s my reset.

Each spark is a goodbye

to the memories I kept too long.

Each explosion is proof

that I’m allowed to start over.

When the colors fade,

so does the version of me

who stayed,

who waited,

who hurt quietly.

I’m not carrying heartbreak

into a new calendar.

I’m not letting last year

introduce itself to this one.

New year,

new boundaries.

New year,

new choices.

New year,

new version of me

who finally knows when to leave.

When the noise dies down

and the sky goes dark again,

I’ll be standing there

lighter,

unattached,

unapologetically moving forward.

This new year doesn’t remember my pain.

And neither do I.