Friday, October 25, 2013

My Side of Things

It seems so long ago that we were together.
It feels almost unreal.
Yet sometimes it feels very real. 
Curious how perspective changes time and space.

It took a while for the anger inside me to burst forth.

No, I wasn’t angry about the breakup;
it wasn’t the most graceful of breakups
(you avoiding me, us breaking up on the phone),
but you wanted out, and that isn't something I can hold against you. 

Yes, I was in great pain,
but that was my choice.

My anger came from a different place:
remembering how you treated me while we were together,
how your initial intense interest
turned into a confusing mixture of affection and distance,
which gradually formed into

I felt more like a witness than a participant
with you.
Mostly listening,
less and less being listened to.
I slowly disappeared though I was physically there.

And when it finally burst forth, my anger
was venomous. I was consumed for days.
Until I understood:
it was mainly myself I was mad at;
it was me who failed to protect herself,
me who I needed to forgive.

Because I knew;
I knew from the start
all that I knew at the end.
But I chose:

And this is my side of things:
long before we met, and for quite a while,
I was hiding in the safety of illusion.
I told myself I was
fulfilling my dreams, though I did nothing for them,
and I knew I was doing
yet I chose

And then you came along,
to provide relief from self-dislike, to offer
a much-needed distraction
that made my illusion manageable.

Only it was a bubble destined to burst from the moment of its inception.

And sooner or later I had to face my
And embrace my

And so I did.

Friday, October 18, 2013


Some collect stamps; others gather souvenirs from around the world.  Numerous dusty shelves are crammed with treasured items. 

Someone strolls in an exotic market, in a foreign land, his hand reaches for a beautiful thing while his other hand hurries to grab the wallet; I must have this!  The stall owner wraps the purchase with extra care.  He wants to reassure the buyer it is indeed worth the hefty sum.

Old, new, borrowed,
Bought, inherited, or found.

All these precious things!

I leave all beautiful things behind, and save their impressions alone.
Ha, you might say, but these will die with you. 
I reply: By telling you about all the beautiful things I ever saw, my recollections live on, for they too hold beauty.  Though time might alter them, they would not shudder like crystal glass, grow mold, or burn in a fire. 

And if forgotten, then so be it.