Search

aRecoveringRomanticOnModernLove

Tag

poetry

Tears stream down my cheek. Not because I’m sad. Because waiting has become unbearable.

I crave you in the smallest ways. To take your face in my hands. To feel your lips with mine. To hear your breathing even out as you fall asleep. To know your morning routine and to hear you call my name across a room.

I don’t need grand romance or a life of adventure, though I know you’ll give me both of those. I just need your hand in mine when it’s hard. I need to feel it firm and hard. To know that you’re real. That will be enough.

Because as unbearable as it becomes, waiting for you is the best thing I’ve ever done.

Move on.

Just when I think it’s finally over, that you’ve accepted what is, you find a way back into my life. The only place I forgot to block you. The one way you could reach out. The same words typed, over and over, that last plead to change my mind. I cannot continue playing this game. Day after day, nothing has or will changed.

You are not the martyr you believe yourself to be. You don’t deserve pedestals or praise. Repeating the words “I want you to be happy” doesn’t make you the better person. I know what I did. I know I had one foot out the door from the day we met. I know I moved on before letting you go. I will not deny what that makes me, but what I am does not define what you are. You are the result of your own choices, not mine.

There is nothing you can say to change a thing; not my thoughts about you or the state of my wellbeing. See, he gives me everything you never could, even from a million miles away, and that says more about you and me then some falsely intentioned well wishes ever could.

Move on. That’s all I have to say. Take your feelings of regret and channel it into being better for someone else. I am not yours, I never was and never will be. Move on. It’s so much more than too little too late. It was never meant to be.

Move on.

an observation

You know, I’ve always loved people. The way they look. The air they breathe. The rising of a heavy chest. The twisting of an innocent curl. The dimpling of a cheek. The love of a broken heart.
And sometimes, I’ve hated people too. The minds full of darkness. The mouths full of lies.
The love and the hate, an obsession I cannot seem to break. To observe. To write. To love.
The lost and lonely. The found and full. The hopeless and the hopers. The daring and the depleted.
I wish to understand these wild creatures. The simple but complex star beams tethered to this earth by nothing more than a heartbeat.

It is not a sad thought to accept that I never will.
Purely, an observation on the wondrously, occasionally monstrous, diversity of human kind.

I’m not easy to love.
I’m a rollercoaster of emotions. I screw up all the time.
I say the wrong things. I wait too long or move too fast.
I’m stubborn.
I’ve been hurt before. My soul is still in repair.
I know I’m far from perfect. I know I’m not easy to love.

But, do it anyway.
What I receive, I give back tenfold.
In the way I kiss, or hold your hand.
With my words and action, I’ll always put you first.
I’m not easy to love, but I’ll give you my love easily.
Because the most damaged hearts never give in.
Because the hard to love, love hard.

 

Blog at WordPress.com.

Up ↑