Brokenwinged bird

Epilogue:

Hello, everyone! I started a blog almost two years ago now but never even made one post and I confess I am still a newbie. But I was inspired to post my first real blog after I very reluctantly and sadly broke up with my boyfriend recently. The relationship was not serving me; I was being disrespectfully treated and I know it was the right thing to do.

But oh, how I loved this man and I am good and truly broken-hearted but in true Holly-go-lightly fashion I will let my pain spill onto the page (and all my friends’ ears – God bless ’em!). Hopefully, continuing to perform this catharsis by writing out the incredibly chaotic swimming inside my head will get me back to the title of my blog – to who I truly am – Holly Ascending.

This is a poem I wrote shortly after the last day that we were an “us” and I wanted to share it just in case anyone can relate. Thanks for listening!

Epitaph

I want to go back – back to the days when you were my strength, my joy
when I was your lady, your beloved
When we had a love we could be proud of

Just like that – I am left to put away the pictures, the notes, the silly mementos, to turn off “our songs” by Sade
to avoid our special places for a beat, until enough time can pass that the pain doesn’t steal my breath when I am there
and my heart starts to heal

But how do you turn away from the sunset my love?
From a sky full of stars that calls your name in its mystery, in its dark beauty
From the swaying shine of the lake with its ripples spilling onto the shore, bursting over the rocks and in that moment
my heart is so full of us, so full of laughter, joy, the utter euphoria we shared
From our eyes smiling at each other at the glorious sight of that shoreline with the trees bending as if it was just for us alone in the universe

How do you keep from remembering your carpenter’s hands stroking my hair, your sweet mouth on my breast, your hands owning my hips
Your eyes, kind and full of promise, searching my face, finding all you needed there

How do I crawl through the muck and fucked-up regrets

How can I imagine the emptiness of a life never again being held in your arms – but I must

Because there is no choice but to endure it