A girl I dated for half my life
just got married.
We have not spoken for equally as long.
I know she is married because upon impulse,
I typed her name in “search” while
on a social networking site I never visit because
last weekend was her
birthday.
Kitchen knives sewn up inside my gut.
She most likely gives me zero thought at all.
Her husband, a younger looking, much more handsome
version of me.
We were together forever. It ended badly.
I was as bad to her, as she was to me.
Probably worse.
No hope of it lasting, this I know logically.
Yet.
It’s Summer, birds sing for them. Her dress is white,
they are both smiling by the Sea.
A snapshot of perfection
and the people are cheering
like a God damned commercial of how life
should be lived by the beautiful people.
and I am anonymous coward-fuck.
for peeking in on their world.
Telling myself that I should be happy
or at the very least
not care fools no one
especially myself.
I’m not thinking, “I’m glad she’s happy.”
It’s a curiosity of what the right man at the right time
looks like.
Well, now I know.
It is not what I expected.
That God damned photo.
And closure.
I do not know what I should
have expected.
The movie reel of our memories edited over
as if I never happened.
Except as a warning. A lesson.
My current woman whom
I love dearly asks me what’s wrong.
My face betrays me
I see my old life lived in by another man.
My old dreams are now dreamt by
someone else.
The woman I planed our kids names;
her eyes glassy with rapture by another man.
I sit alone in my car, and I think
how blessed with what I now have
and the woman who now shares my side and loves me
when I do the exact same things to fuck up
this relationship also.
She too deserves better.
I know that one day
she’ll move on as well.
My lament, tearless;
blunted through the passage of time.
sears my soul all the same.
Why do I do the things I do?
I always know when I make poor choices
but it never stops me.
The same fuck-ups over and over.
Aren’t I clever?
Tagged: Poetry
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11 Comments
Wow, that was amazing. I can relate to every word you’ve written and yet when asked, I never could have put words to it like that. You may do other stuff, but you my friend are a Writer.
Thank you for the kind words.
I don’t know you, but I enjoy your writing a lot, but mostly the stuff about porn. I mean, all this sad shit, but you have so much going for you. Can’t you be thankful for what you have, which millions of men would kill for?
I just found your blog. That entry was powerful. You have the soul of a poet.
Thank you. Unfortunately for me that’s a liability in Los Angeles.
I write about what I’m feeling at any given moment. I’m not a puppies and rainbows kinda guy–never was.
If those millions of men that would kill for my job read any random story I wrote they’d think differently.
Thanks for reading,
Tyler
Wow. I think every person in the world has felt that way at one point or another.
Very deep and powerful.
Very well written.
Wow. Spot on. I had that moment just a while ago, and it’s still wrenching my guts. Shouldn’t be, for many reasons. Still does.
I concur, great writing! You have captured the thoughts and feelings of many men feeling the same things over similar circumstances.
Thanks. When I saw the wedding pic online, I wanted to howl but I wrote the first half of this instead, right then and there.
I was gonna delete this but I put it away for four months and gave it a few editing passes.
Read this in NYC last week. Went over well.
I was invited to the wedding
And I went.
I thought it would be a mistake
But it wasn’t.
She looked beautiful,
radiant, elegant.
I was sincerely pleased to see her
so happy.
He was me,
But smarter, richer, stronger,
better employed, better looking.
And unlike me
he hadn’t given up
on learning the guitar,
or maybe on anything else
that really mattered to him.