You’re looking at me but seeing her
I know that look, it’s happened before
Sitting there stunned
wondering how I know
it’s because I was there too
in one way or another.
The light behind her
as she stood in the doorway
saying goodbye
without quite getting
that it was breaking you.
I am quite good at picking up pieces
and forming patterns
out of broken hearts.
You see he looked at me the same way
with great charm
but without an ounce of soul
as he made his messy exit.
Your last night with her
will never leave you
but that’s ok
since I’ll never forget him either.
But that doesn’t mean
we can’t make our own mandalas
with the shards we’ve become
not so empty just broken
waiting to be laid out in a new bed
of our making.
It will be messy and beautiful
and ours looking forward like dawn.
This cuts through on multiple levels. Who we were, who we’ve become, how we navigate the storms of our relationships… A mature poem for honest reflection.
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Well, I can’t exist and write purely from libido (though that may be how it often seems) so I reflect often.
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Ha ha. Pssst:(you are not alone).
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Thanks, it’s nice to be reminded someone’s there.
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