This is a short epilogue to the subject of my earlier poem, "Little Things" where I described feeling wistful due to my ex's favorite band announcing a show in my hometown. So they did it, it's done now, and I looked online at a review by a major broadsheet to see what happened. I read how great it was, how the lead singer told all the fans there how he missed them (especially during the pandemic), and how he made them yell in surprise and amazement by revealing his new partner/wife was from their country and how he fell in love with the culture of his spouse's family. The whole concert erupted in cheers, no doubt about it.
As I read that, I felt glad for him for finally settling down with the woman of his dreams (and shockingly, from the same culture I'm from), while simultaneously feeling that old sting of regret and hurt knowing how once upon a time my ex loved them to the hilt. I see how happy he is to start a new life with her, and I think of how my ex wasted their chance to create that new life with me. They could've had what he had, you know? If only they were as determined and committed to that shining ideal as I was. If only they worked hard and focused on it, as I was on my end. Instead, they surrendered to the temptation of easy answers. They gave up on us and our life together. They sacrificed the rewards of the future in exchange for the comforts of the present. Now, all that's left are visions of stillborn dreams that lie in the ash heap of history. What a shame for them to throw it all away.
I'm gonna do something I've never done before, and that is to share a picture I found that encapsulates the future I had in mind with them. This is a snippet of what I meant when I dreamt of building a life together with them. I hope they see this and think about that chance they wasted. And I hope the pain they inflicted on me haunts them for the rest of their life.
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Split Sides
PoetryPoetry, prose, and more from the fountain of thought. Cover made by the wonderful @-fedorable. Best Rankings: #3 Essay #3 Monologue #4 Draft #1 Poetry