“So what then do we say of all these things, the past carries our story in the bookshelves I often revisit. What a tale of love and woe.” A poet’s proverb.
I greet the ocean in the name of love, gratitude, and the stories I have written at her feet.
I exhale the tragedy of being a poet who has served joy and pain and all things in between, and then, I kindly ask my heart to be still.
“A lot must be said tonight, so find your peace.” I tell her.
Breathe. And so I proceed.
“We are on the other side of healing, this time, things must be different”
But my heart, she asks questions, restless as the ocean in front of us. She asks,
“Owner, if we could live that story again, what would we do this time?”
“This time, I would tell him I wanted him sooner. If I knew our time had this end, i’d have him sooner.
This time I would state my intentions clearly. I was love meant to be whole heartedly embraced. Not simply experienced. I was love asking to be steadfast and full. I am not a half love.”
This time, I would not let him touch me. The heart often learns to forget, but the body always remembers. And sometimes, remembering is the worst part.
I would drink coffee instead, the tea became bitter.
This time, I would let God love him alone. Despite His insistence, mine was not necessary.
This time, I would have left the first time.
I would have healed quicker. Forgiven faster. Forgiven myself completely.
I’d respect your decision to not love me the way I asked to be loved, and respected myself more by staying away after.
This time? I’d remember friendship does not seek to hurt it’s friend. I’d stop calling you by a name you are not.
This time, I would still call you friend, because i’d be lying if I said you are not.
This time, i’d love and leave you. Not just love you.
This time, there would not be a you.”
This time, my heart is still. She knows the battles it took to get here. To grab healing by the neck and call it mine. She wears her battle scars so beautifully.
This time, after you, I will say ‘love’ without hearing your name. This time I will love myself it will bring God tears of joy. I will be a manifestation of every love story God wrote in me.
I will choose me.
Every. Damn. Time.
And it will be glorious.