I read this poem below, sitting in my car finishing my coffee before i go into the office to start my day. It made me think how i romanticize Mr. Tattoo in my mind and in this blog. Does it fit for anyone else? No. I was ready for other relationships to end. I wasn't with him. I wanted so much more than he was willing to give and i excused it because he was honest about it. He did not want a relationship. (the part he left off was "with you") and i took that as respectable and honorable behavior.
Was it though? I got used. Willingly, yes, but used. It was our activities he was interested in, and i was taking what i could from him - as much time as he would give me, just to be in his presence, to be with him.
Why? Sex was amazing, best i've ever had. But i've had great sex before him and didn't fall into feels. Maybe thats why i thought i could do it with him. Keep it about the sex. He did. He treated me very well, never like an object - always very kind, gracious, fun.
The only time he treated me exactly as the situation warranted was that last time - as if i was a booty call. I was sharing feelings and he was not having any of it, made it into a joke ....come get your stuff and hey, get laid too. That cut deep. Seeing him the last time, him sitting a mile away from me as we watched a movie (why mb, why did you stay?).......cold, removed........done. DONE done.
Yikes. But i kinda did it to myself, didn't I? We probably would have continued as long as i knew my place, didn't have any attachments, no feelings.
LOL that, is NOT me. I'm in or out. On or OFF. And isn't it strange that with a man who i truly cared for, who treated me with nothing but kindness (and smoking hotness).......i cut it off. No more of me unless you want all of me. And he didn't. So he cut me off too.
And i survived, didn't I. Without having to hate him. Its ridiculous when i consider the short amount of time we actually spent together. But i know, he was the one for me. When you know you know. But i wasn't the one for him. C'est la vie. No shame, no blame.
But I did romanticize him, making him larger than life in my memory. I did build him up. Was it because i couldn't have him? Would i have seen dark sides to him that would have turned me against him? I think the dark sides may have had me in even deeper. We all have it. It would have made him less perfect, more human - more accessible.
Honestly? At this point, who cares. He's just a man among thousands of men. He stood out to me, his vibe spoke to mine. His ways brought me comfort and his presence made me feel safe.
Thats all.
LOL
But this poem i stumbled upon this morning also spoke to me. And it screamed his name in my mind.
He didn’t disappear.
He didn’t get lost.
He left you.
By choice.
And it wasn’t destiny.
Not fate, not timing, not the universe pulling strings.
He wasn’t swept away by circumstance.
It wasn’t the stars crossing wrong,
or the universe testing your strength.
It was him not wanting you enough.
You want to believe it’s because he was broken,
because no one ever taught him how to stay,
because the weight of love was too much for his trembling hands.
But broken people stay.
Scared people stay.
Busy people stay.
The only ones who leave are the ones who want to.
That is truth you can’t dress in silk.
And yet, here you are,
rewriting the ending until it feels grander than it was.
Turning his silence into mystery.
Turning his rejection into myth.
You paint him as a storm too wild to hold,
a fire too consuming to keep.
But people who love you don’t go silent when it matters.
Absence is absence.
It’s a choice to stop showing up.
This wasn’t the weather.
It was will.
Stop romanticizing it.
Stop dressing abandonment in poetry.
He wasn’t a storm.
He wasn’t fire.
He wasn’t some rare force the world couldn’t contain.
He was not destiny slipping away.
He was not a once-in-a-lifetime tragedy.
He was just a person who looked at your open hands,
at your steady love,
and chose not to take them.
And that decision wasn’t holy.
It wasn’t noble.
It wasn’t even complicated.
It was simple.
He was unwilling.
It was not a tragedy.
It was a choice.
And he didn’t choose you.
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