Please let her go.
You had two good years.
You made her happier than anyone could.
But you don't do that anymore; you haven't for a while.
And you still won't let her be happy with anyone else.
You held her so tight that she grew into you, like a rose bush wrapping itself around rusty barbed wire.
Now she can't let go.
And when I reach for the petals, my hand comes back scratched and bloodied.
She has her own thorns, she doesn't need your metal tines.
But she can't let go, and no one can pull her away.