by Poetically Yours, Chesca
Hand-in-hand we walked together down the block. I felt safe like this. It felt safe like this. There was a difference between being together and being together. And I was lucky that with you, I had both. We were about to cross the pedestrian when you stopped abruptly. I didn’t know why. I squinted my eyes and my gaze was fixed on someone across the street. A brunette with ratty hair and skinny jeans. I looked up at you knowingly. But your stare was straight ahead.
A slight smile spread across your face and for some reason, you looked relax. It was that look– probably that feeling, you got when you’re dreading a text, an email, from someone important to you. You wait even longer; and the dreadful feelings continue getting stronger. But then the other person replies. And you sigh with relief as your face slowly turns calm. It was like carrying a huge boulder on your back, and that person carefully lifting it off of you. Because you know that with that reply; everything is all good now. Everything is okay.
“Hey,” you said. “I know her!”
And I always wondered why you stopped for her and why you smiled for her and why you didn’t say “I knew her.”
Months have passed and people still ask me if I still love you. Every time I get asked this question, a thousand memories flash before me in a millisecond. It was like flipping through old photo albums in fast-paced. And then suddenly, I remembered us. Our memories like a montage etched at the back of my mind. But regardless of everything, I always know how to respond. Reality hurts you, I know. I’m sorry. But it is what is true. It’s always been “I did.”
You broke my heart and yet you still wonder why I no longer say “I do.”
– An Excerpt from a Story I’ve Never Written
Life’s not fair because ever since I stopped loving you, I stop writing poems. I can’t seem to write any good poems without feeling some kind of heartbreak but I no longer want to be sad. So I tried something new.
This is all fictional.