What you lose in the breaking, and the leaving, and in the tearing up of things is not the weight of the burden of a flailing we, unravelling as it were, beneath the weight of the angst the uncertainty of ambivalent inquiry weaves in its wake.
What you gain is not peace, or freedom, or the sense of soaring free; a relief craved like cold water on a blistering summer day - a breath drawn deep, air gulped a sigh of resignation at the certainty of leaving.
What you leave in the un-cleaving, is a good riddance tossed like a curse into the wind, the silhouette of a fading back the only linger of a memory quickly fading into a transient thought
What you lose is the endearing quality of a sometimes awkward silence, of knowing, and being known and of safely being- and the joy and the passion deeply feeling things brings.
What you learn, when in the lingering haunting sound of silence you reflect, is that what you lose is the joy of eyes lit by quotidian things - is laughter, and living and loving; and hope for hoping against hope for a thousand smiling summers.