Start Swimming Sooner
what a game it had been
You were right:
I am the one
who got away —
from myself for so long
that I
hadn’t recognized
what ego actually meant.
And then, I believed
that abandonment
had an innate
prerequisite
of connection, but we
never honestly
did that,
did we?
It’s not your fault,
or is it?
No, blaming you
would be like scorning
a loon
for haunting
the lake with forlorn
wails in search
for his own belonging.
We were praised
by strangers for
playing the long game.
And what a game
it had been.
Yet,
I was a ferry
drifting through,
however slowly.
And if I really got away,
and if we were really meant to
stay together,
then why didn't you
start swimming
sooner?
About the Creator
Sam Eliza Green
Wayward soul, who finds belonging in the eerie and bittersweet. Poetry, short stories, and epics. Stay a while if you're struggling to feel understood. There's a place for you here.
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More stories from Sam Eliza Green and writers in Poets and other communities.
Harboring Happiness - Day 1
Today in harboring happiness, I idle on the front porch while a finch flitters through the resident pile of leaves littering my yard. The hounds huff at her rustling between cracks in the sagging, sunbaked fence. I wonder if she is nesting or scavenging for rootless seeds. Yet, happiness imagines she is playing hopscotch instead, as if even birds understand these silly little things need time and a place to exist.
By Sam Eliza Green11 days ago in Poets
Two Wrinkles In Time
It is pointless to run, my darling, because sixty seconds ago, I will kill you. My blade will have sliced reality open right in front of you. It will have first pierced it as it would a bed sheet left hanging to dry, flapping in the wind on a Sunday afternoon. But the metal will have drawn a line in the air that the ghostly tear will have followed. Then I, La Dyablès, machete firmly in hand, will have emerged from what your mind, at the time, could only interpret as the other side of here—whatever that means to you. I know. I have seen that look on the faces of countless unlucky… clients. You will not have been the first nor the last to try and reneg on a riches for soul contract only to present this visage to me when I come to collect.
By Lily Séjor6 days ago in Fiction
Comments (3)
Gosh this was so painfully heartbreaking. Loved your poem!
This is some brilliant writing. I love the line about abandonment. Well written, Sam.
So sad but so beautifully wrought.