by Tricia Marie Miel
She loved once
In retrospect, too much.
She was only too willing
To juggle her life around his happiness
Hanging on to his words, his promises
In retrospect, they were empty phrases
Whispered on the premise of
seemed like the right thing to say at the time.
She carved out a space in her guarded heart
To make room for him
For all that he was, the good and the bad
In retrospect, she gave too much, prematurely.
For although she thought there was reciprocity
There was only the caprice of immaturity
Magnified by the insensitivity
Of subsequent words that have clawed their wounds
And left their scars
In retrospect, he doesnt know how much she cried.
In retrospect, he never will.
The hurt that destroys can be the hurt that rebuilds
And in time she's learned to glue the pieces
That were scattered when her world imploded
In retrospect, she's fine
And finally able to see things for what they are
And not as she'd like them to be.
She knows now that though he meant so much
To him she was only temporary
There to pass the time, there while he vacillated with uncertainty.
In retrospect, she's made peace with that fact.
In retrospect, there are no more tears to cry.
Eventhough she doesn't have the answers, she knows to stop asking why.
On the outside looking in
She sees a soliloquy unfold
And in his written words she reads
Trite platitudes addressed to someone new
Familiar words that once oozed the same sincerity
Recycled, but similar contextually
And she sighs
And wishes him well
But she'll keep her distance
They say keep your friends close
And your enemies closer
But he fits the definition of neither friend
Only her "used-to-be"
An integral part of her history
In retrospect, she wants him to be happy.
Posted on 06/01/2006
Copyright © 2022 Tricia Marie Miel
|Member Comments on this Poem|
|Posted by Steven Kenworthy on 06/02/06 at 12:27 AM|
wow. i love this poem because i have been the recycler and have vowed to never be again. a great deal of humility here in this piece mixed in with scorching honesty. nice write...i should stop by your place more. ciao!
|Posted by George Hoerner on 11/03/13 at 01:24 PM|
A poem certainly worthy of this POTD.