The Art of Letting Go

This is more prose than poetry

I've never experienced heartbreak but this, this is what I would imagine it to feel like.

He opened his arms to the sky and promised me the world. He said no other did he love as much as he loved me. One day we would be together- he swore it. Indecisions changed his mind. The love he was so undoubtingly asure of began to waver. His touch no longer lingered. His promises no longer mattered.

I felt crushed, and alone. The loneliness of waking up each day with only myself beneath the sheets was excrutiately painful. I found myself searching for him in passing cars and down the many aisles of the grocery store, but it was never him. It was always a confused man who resembled him- silently pitying me and my desperation. I was pathetic. I was lost. I was damaged.

I've never been in love. I've been beside it, but never in it.

It wasn't love. It was bitter intentions desguised as love, and I was the only one who didn't know that. When judgement day finally came I had no shoulder to cry on. He had always been my shoulder, and now he was only a vague outline of absence. We warned you. We told you. We didn't trust him.

Dismissing the opinions you don't like doesn't make them any less true.

Author's Note

I just needed to let this all out to feel better. Comment

Reviews

[Aislinn]

This is heartrendingly beautiful. Your characters are clear and believable though they are never named. Your tone is clear the entire way through. I found it easy to read and understand. It was done with a hint of ambiguity, but not enough to distract from the story.

On a separate note, I'm incredibly glad that you clarified the prose/poetry distinction in your description. If you hadn't I would have been rather confused.