49. and to think i used to call him mine


if he ever tried to retrace his steps, Y would still be here. there’s only so many lives a man can lead. whilst i lived out my three, not quite a cat but near enough the slinky nine, he could barely grasp onto one.

so here we are again. and he won’t admit that he was wrong to have jilted me at my elusive altar and though i’m not bitter, i still think it should have been me to have waved the first goodbye. i was never the taker for seconds.
now we speak for barely more than seconds.

and we had a conversation today. somehow i manipulated minutes out of him when he claimed to have none. and he wants me to call on a weekend. and he listened to my poetry of loving women and war poets. it’s been a while. but i’ll let him live his life. that one life he holds onto like a raft in a burly sea.
those sort of lives were never meant for me: i like mine long and luscious, like sweltering summer days.

and when i read him my lines, he stopped talking altogether, pondering, wondering, what it was that i meant, knowing it concerned him but not knowing how.

and to think i used to call him mine.

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4 responses to “49. and to think i used to call him mine

  1. moondustwriter

    sweet my dear – looking back the view is either how did we ever make it as long as we did or what was the cog that kept us apart. Glad you can see clearly

    Love ya my romantic glittering and I am once again inspired by you

  2. oh i know, how us mere humans like to dwell, but oh my dear, we do it well :)

    you too are an inspiration, moon.
    hugs and hugs and hugs galore :D

    xxx

  3. Hindsight and the clarity of looking from afar…no matter how many lives you have, live them beautifully. Inspiring words :) xx

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