Loving him was easy,
Loving him was a summer breeze.
He was like a habit of mine.
Having been with me for too long.
Letting him go was difficult,
But I kept on saying myself that I needed to let him go.
He was a bad habit.
He made me feel weak.
And when I finally left,
I discovered that I could be anything.
Loving her was difficult,
Like popping open a vein.
It was like breathing fire,
And dancing amidst a hurricane.
And racing against time,
And fighting against lightning.
Loving her was passion, thrill, adventure and danger.
Loving her taught me pain.
Losing her made me feel as if everything was empty,
As I was too full of grief and rage and tragedy.
By losing her, I discovered that I could use the endless darkness in me as ink.
And fill my canvas and paint a masterpiece with words.
Learning to love myself,
Was the hardest part.
But, I would do it all, over and over again,
Just to learn how to love myself,
A little more each day.
Loving them was the easiest part.
My heart was theirs even before I knew how to give it away.
YOU ARE READING
Way Ward
PoetryLife is a jumbled mess. And from within this mess, I'm gifting you "your" stories, along with the stories of some other lost souls. Way Ward - A way to find your lost self.
