Break — a poem about succumbing to the cold and letting go

I'm trying to mostly share new works for OctPoWriMo. Though this one is not new, written at the beginning of this year, I stumbled upon it in the vault today and it seemed like a lost poem worth sharing. I like the winter imagery even if it's a below zero type of chill. Personal evolution rarely comes in the form of sunny days and smiles. This is a short tale of victory over denial.

Break

I had to write it out of me till I could let it go.
This broken heart will beat for you no more.
Where once I saw strings of twinkle lights,
magical moonbeams, and mistletoe,
I now see only a desolate land of snow.

Let me die in the ice fields
because I was too pure for you.
You were right to believe you were bad for me,
just not for the reasons you'd think.
Your red eye flights were the poison,
not the snowflakes you dance in.
Your departures were my breaking points.
The cracks became canyons—
the wind, tornadoes.

Now and then, under a cobalt moon,
enough is enough for me too.
It is part of aging—this changing.
This newfound respect for my being.
It will be strange to cut the ties this time,
knowing that the heartstrings are only mine.