Tag: love (Page 4 of 5)

you were meant for me, but you were meant for her too

We shouldn’t have met,
is what I am thinking now
and I know it’s not what you
would ever want to hear, and
it’s not something I ever
thought I would honestly say, but
I’m starting to think it’s true.

I thought I was meant for you.

I thought you were meant for me and
that we would have a long road
laid out before us – a whole
entire future life together –
when we could be a family.

When I could finally say that you’re mine.

But possession is 9/10ths of the law
and she’s the one who possessed you.

10% is all I’ve ever had
and all I would ever have.

It’s not enough to feel
like we were meant for each other
if you won’t give us the chance
to build our forever
because you’re still holding on
to the woman who left you alone
long before you even met me.

I felt like you were meant for me
because we fit together like pieces
of a puzzle that had be lost and dusty
under a table where no one would sit together.

I felt like you were meant for me
because the sound of your voice, your smile,
the way you made me feel when you put
your hand on my back and
helped me get where I needed to go…

I was hoping you’d always be here
to help me get wherever it is I need to go.

But possession is 9/10ths of the law
and boy/girl playground logic says:
“I had him first!”

I thought you were meant for me.
But I guess you were meant for her.


Inspired by the Writer’s Write October prompts | Photo by Marcus Spiske

Judgement Day

When the people hear our story
they might only get one side.

They might only hear what I say,
which for a while will probably
not be anything nice.

They will not blame me.

When I go before the prosecutor
I will answer them truthfully:
“Yes, he told me he loved me every day.”
“Yes, he told me he would never leave me.”
“No, I did not believe him.”

Then when I speak for the defense
I will tell them truths as well:
“No, I haven’t trusted him for years.”
“Sure, I wanted to, but I shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, I do deserve better than this.”

The evidence will be presented:
All of the times he lied to me.
All of the times he made decisions without me.
All of the times he wouldn’t touch me and rejected me.
All of the times he reminded me that I would never be his family.
All of the ways he hurt me, day after day after day, by not giving his all for us.

The prosecutor will argue:
“He left his home and family so he could be with you more.”
“He gave up his future for you, he’ll never be able to retire now.”
“You’re being selfish; you’re forsaking him for a fairytale that will never come.”

“He’s going to be alone for the rest of his life because you wouldn’t let yourself believe him anymore.”

“Would the defendant like to make a statement?”

“Yes, Your Honor,” I will say, and turn to the jury:

I did the best I could.
I loved him more than anyone
I’ve ever met in my life.
I thanked him, told him I loved him,
and told him I appreciated him every day.
I did nice things for him just because
I loved him and wanted to make him happy.
I was looking forward to making him happy
for the rest of our lives.

I tried. I tried as hard as I could.
I held on for much longer than I should have,
but I couldn’t take it anymore; and I had to let go.
I couldn’t trust him, he lied too much,
he lied too much about the thing that scared me most.

Your Honor, members of the Jury,
I know what we did was wrong,
and I will be sorry for the rest of my life.

But can you tell me that I deserved this?

I have so much love to give, and I want the chance
to give it to someone who will give it back to me.

I deserve better than to be
someone’s consolation prize
when all else they wanted was lost.

I know what I did was wrong,
but are you really going to keep punishing me
with this crushing weight of guilt over
loving a man and ruining his life?

I promise I’ll do better next time.
I promise I’ll make better choices.
I promise I won’t do anything wrong,
I won’t cheat to get the person I love.

Members of the jury,
I have already been punished,
and I have already punished myself
in ways far worse than you could imagine.

I won’t learn anything
if you lock up my heart again.
I won’t be rehabilitated
if you don’t give me the chance to try again.

I know your duty is to justice,
but please consider I am only part
of the problem that brought us here today.

Please let me go.
Please let me be free.


Inspired by the Writer’s Write October prompts. / Photo by Pavel Denilyuk.




Almost

Like it or not, four years ago I thought I had my last first kiss and now I hope like hell that I was wrong and I didn’t.

Like it or not, I thought you were the one, but no one who loves me as much as I want to be loved would treat me the way you treated me, would they?

Like it or not, I have to do this all over again with someone else, and every man I meet I am going to compare to you, and I’m going to wish you just could have been different…just a little bit different.


This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing prompt: “Like it or not…”

Let’s Give Them Something to Talk About

I heard that they tried as hard as they could but he just couldn’t let go of the past.

I heard that they tried as hard as they could but she was too insecure and jealous.

I heard it took them too long to figure out that no matter how much you love someone and want to make it work, life isn’t fair, and love is never enough.


This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing prompt: In 3 lines, start a rumor. 

The Salve for the Day He Leaves You

Mix one part of staying home from work with taking two small naps and laying on the couch all day eating candy and junk food.

Blend well with exactly one gallon of tears and approximately 50 text messages to your best friend, without much comfort returned despite her trying, and then stir in a viewing of Bridget Jones’s Diary because she makes you feel better about yourself and more hopeful for life in general.

Apply liberally to the skin as often as necessary, take extra time to rub harder on the places where you’ll miss his touch the most – on the small of your back, where the weight of his warm and heavy hand rested on your thigh, and of course be sure not to skip your hands that wrapped around and matched so well with yours it was impossible to see where his skin ended and yours began.


This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing prompt: In three lines, write prescription for something non-medical. 

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