I don’t think you did anything all that awful.
You were twenty-one,
And you were reckless,
Clumsy,
Juggling with things you ought not have juggled with--
Hearts and feelings and fates--
But you were 21.
I’m not sure if I really believe you didn’t know what you were doing.
But, I do believe that 21 years olds are foolish,
And young,
And, so, whether you intentionally broke my heart,
Or accidentally blundered your way into it,
I don’t hate you.
My poetry doesn’t come from hate,
But love.
Not love for you.
You are 24, and I don’t know you,
anymore.
Haven’t known you
In two years.
But, I did love you.
I was so damn full of love,
And loyalty ,
That, two years later,
It is still making beautiful things
Out of heartbreak.
I don’t think I love you, anymore.
I don’t like the idea that love, once given, cannot be reclaimed.
That you will always be in my heart,
Because you broke the part of it I let you in,
And, in some ways, that will always be cosmic,
And heavy,
And real.
But, in others,
In a kinder,
Softer way:
It doesn’t matter.
The things that break our hearts fade and wash away,
Paid eroded into something gentler as the years go on.
The kind of pain you can sleep with.
I don’t think you’re a monster
And I don’t hate you.
And, I am sure, one day
The well of ink in my heart,
the well of all the deep sadness of losing you,
will dry up,
and I will run out of poetry to write.
But,
In the meantime,
I don’t think you are monster,
But, rather,
A reckless child,
Climbing on the kitchen counters,
Knocking things down
In an effort to get what you want.
I suppose, in the end,
There is something beautiful about such a determination to find happiness,
Even if it’s born in the destruction of something else.
I suppose it’s kind of nice,
The idea that love was so worth it
To you,
Even if it left a sea of broken pieces on the kitchen tiles
That someone would have to come along
And clean up.
It’s a nice thought,
Happiness,
Love,
Being so sought after,
Although, I do wish
You’d been a little more careful about it
Children don’t think about the consequences of their actions.
They see,
And they want,
And they take.
And, maybe I can find peace in that.
That you acted, not against me,
But for yourself,
And the pursuit of your own happiness.
And, that I am better off in a world,
And a belief,
That happiness,
When bought at the price of someone’s else’s heartbreak,
Is not worth having
At all.
ellievsbear
