• If only, if only…

    by  • July 9, 2011 • * Safe for Work *, Lost Love, Waxing Poetic • 0 Comments

    I am a writer. The words on a page speak to me, in ways I can only express to others through more words. And yet, when I NEED words to work for me, they don’t. I didn’t tell the man I love that I love him soon enough. He’s not dead, or far away– not yet.

    But it’s one of those little things.

    Those things you look back on and think, “why didn’t I just say so? Why did I hide?”

    I’m terrified that when we part ways for a while, he’ll find someone, and she won’t be me.

    I don’t want to be forgotten. I don’t want to be forgotten by him.

    I’m trying to hold on. I am grasping at the thin strings of life, at the opportunities that pass me. I will NOT be placid, I will NOT be silent and still!

    I am not letting go, my dearest. I just can’t! I love you so strongly, I love you so deep that nothing can remove my feelings for you. I wrote a poem about you. It’s bitter, it has a lot of pain. Things have gotten better, but you should read it anyway. It’s how I process things.


    Take a breath in,
    Let the breath out.
    Over and over,
    Then let’s repeat.
    I’m hooked on all
    Those machines
    That keep a
    Heart functioning normally,
    Because I had a transplant.

    My heart failed,
    Literally and figuratively.
    I think they happened
    As a cause and effect
    Sort of thing.

    You broke my heart.

    Whereas you didn’t
    Change the status quo
    By rejecting me, you
    Did take it to the next
    Level by ripping
    It from my chest,
    Leaving the empty
    Cavity behind. It pumped
    In your hands, where before
    It always thrived and
    Flourished, and you
    Squeezed and crushed
    My poor heart till
    I had nothing left.

    Why did you torture
    Me so? And all
    I ever did was
    Love you.

    The gaping fissure you
    Created in the middle
    Of my chest caved in.
    When paramedics arrived,
    They understood nothing.
    I was deranged, and
    Could tell them nothing.
    I managed to get
    A transplant,
    But it seems that
    This sort of heart
    That’s hurting isn’t
    Really real at all, nor
    Is it really a heart.

    It’s all in my head,
    They tell me.

    And I tell them,
    Lies! I really loved
    Him. I could not
    Have imagined
    Something as complex
    And wonderful as he.

    Why do you mock me,
    Paramedics? Have you
    Not suffered from a broken
    Heart, too?

    And still they laugh.

    The pressure gauge
    In my brain says I’m
    Going to explode soon
    By keeping all these
    Emotions inside.
    I say, eh, sure.

    Do you know the
    Worst part? I
    Still have to see
    You everyday. I
    See your smile,
    I laugh at your jokes,
    My conscience twangs
    When people snub you.
    But in the heart in
    My head, I cry, because
    You have everything I want
    And can’t have, not even that
    Which belonged to me

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