4 Years

A Poem by Rebecca Leigh

Four Years
Its interesting how much we crave interaction.
just sixteen at the time,
I did not even know,
no, did not understand the meaning,
I was too young and far too naive,
but the thought of it: of family life,
Thats what everyone wants, right?
I grew up hearing conflicting tales,
My mom told me to wait until after I was thirty to get married,
yet I heard the story of my grandparents love and how they got married early in life,
I was beyond confused.
Then when I paired with Mr. good.. enough,
My mom fell more in love with my suitor than I,
I thought perhaps if I waited with him the feelings would come,
maybe I would want a family with my high school boyfriend...
So I waited...
It's true, he did grow on me, but something nagged at the outer corner of my mind,
We became more intimate; Holding hands, kissing; as adults so often do,
acting as adults, but still children in the mental and emotional.
A pre-adolescent game of playing house.
something else was occurring...
we were growing up,
as people often do.
He joined the military and went off to war.
I stayed still;
living through the motions of junior and senior year,
yet trying to be a saint,
skipping prom out of guilt,
For I couldn't share my experiences with him,
in the present.
I fell into a deep hole of darkness,
it reeled my mind soul and heart.
When he returned I had a twinge of excitement,
thought our original facade could continue,
but we both were deader than before
Though we kept on pretending.
He'd attack me in his sleep,
and I would berate him with my words in the wake.
this became our new masquerade,
prouncing around pretending to be happy.
just living in cold misery,
thinking we were meant to save each other,
but lacking that power.
The breaking point;
when one of us wanted to break from the mold we created.
we started threatening to leave one another,
rendering the other incomplete
Apathy overtook the willpower, or maybe strength to carry out our convictions.
So we wait.
Neither one wanting the label of failure, or "the bad one."
We both desperately want to end the cycle,
But are trapped by our stubbornness, or perhaps stupidity:
We remain.
Then one weekend,
In a town near Kentucky,
our abuses escalated.
Until there was a slight crack of a window,
suspicions arose,
Illusions shattered-
A dashed empty promise.
and I was alone...
I acted the way I was supposed to,
sobbed until my eyes were crimson,
like the color of what i thought was my broken heart.
I simply sat in that beige hotel room,
The tv was turned on, i just stared through it,
reveled with shock,
Missing the fact that I was finally free.