Lovers Left Behind

It’s easy to say
“I don’t care”
to say that it doesn’t hurt
that their voice doesn’t still
echo through your core
“I’ve moved on”
you say as you pour yourself a cup
of black coffee.
(You used to take cream and sugar)

It’s not so easy to conjure
up their spirit,
or remember what it felt like
to snuggle into their arms,
or understand why you still feel sick
for a person who hurt you so badly,
for a person who you really
really
shouldn’t have loved at all.

But for some reason,
you like to torture yourself.
You think about it more than you should,
and even though you are so incredibly happy,
loved,
in love completely,
and you understand that what you have now
is what you need
and is what’s filling your lungs
with crisp, fresh air,
you ache.

You hear Elton John
and think of the time you laid
with legs on the wall,
blonde hair tumbling into orange shag carpet,
waiting for someone to make you feel important,
(It was your eighteenth birthday)
He walked in and saw you,
arms above head,
the spinning record vibrating your soul.
“I hate Elton John,”
and shut the door and left.

But the ache,
the pounding,
the sobs stuck in your throat,
they are magic.
You were pushed off the edge of a cliff,
straight into new skin,
your skin,
the skin you always belonged in
but were too afraid to find.

Be thankful for the lovers lost,
left behind you,
They made room for yourself,
your light no longer contained or
confined,
it glows warmly,
seeps into those around you,
and they love Elton John.

Advertisements

One thought on “Lovers Left Behind

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s