And you

Dear you, and you, and you, and you, and you, oh, and you,
Dear you who charmed your way in
Dear you who passed by briefly
Dear you who outstayed your welcome
Dear John
Dear Daniel
Dear Sam
Dear Christian
Dear Marcus
Dear G
Dear R
Dear short one, dear tall one,
Dear wounded one, dear strong one
Dear committed, dear cheater

It has struck me to line you all up
And allow an open discussion
How love
Was just impossible
When I was involved.


The run

And I keep on pushing
I keep on trying
I renegotiate
I keep on fighting
I keep on moving
I keep on running
I cry
Yet I keep on going
Because I hope
That somewhere
At the end of it all
There’s you
It was all
Worth doing.

To let be

If it crosses my mind?

Yes, more than once. More than it should probably. But I don’t mind. Not any more. Because even though the pain lingered on for a long time, and it occasionally surfaces once in a while, I’ve gotten used to it. I can deal with it. I’m equipped, armored. The battle wounds haven’t quite healed and the scars are left as memories but I accept it. It’s become a habit. Although it may not be the most pleasurable one, I allow the thoughts to stay for a while, to meander across my mind in their own fashionable way. The difference now is that I know when to wave goodbye to them, kindly showing them the exit. And they leave.

So yes, it all crosses my mind now and again but it’s simply a crossing, not a battlefield anymore.

The stare

He looked at me with wounded eyes. I had done it again. If I was proud of it?

Pride had not graced its presence in my body for a long time. With each one, after each pair of eyes had stared at me with a despaired gaze, a little dignity left along with them. It didn’t make it easier and it wasn’t at all planned. That’s just the way it turned out.

So I’m not sure the relevance of speaking of pride. The answer is seemingly evident, isn’t it?