The Agony of Renewal
The path of divergence
He pours his heart out to that one special woman,
The one in which he’s carried a flame for decades in his heart,
Coveted rewards phasing into his future happiness,
Believing they are not destined to be forever apart.
❤️
He wears a crooked smile as he rifles her memories,
Reliving the love he worshipped from the glorious start,
Loving touch after passionate joy filmed for his pleasure,
Within his subconsciousness as a shrine to his sweetheart.
❤️
He adorns his mantle of wanton lover in anticipation,
Envying the distance in which she weaves her life,
Wanting nothing more than to hear the silkiness of her voice once more,
And praying she’ll agree to honour him as his wife.
❤️
He feels the emotions restart his long dead heart,
Survives the thawing of ice in which he wrapped it up tight,
Until he was a mere puddle of love and devotion,
Drowning the floor at his feet in effortless delight.
❤️
He levies the darkness of the nighttime hours,
Patiently waiting for her to once more awaken,
A plethora of feelings skitter along his spine at her first words,
Leaving his macho persona disarmed and forsaken.
❤️
But then the brutal honesty of the situation comes full force,
As she’s no longer the woman that he once knew,
No, she’s lived a life of hell in a distraught fashion,
Until her heart was turned to stone, scarred and brewed.
💔
She no longer had the ability to love unconditionally,
Not now that her heart holds discord and mistrust,
Love is a fool’s game and she’s no longer a fool,
She’s learned via the hard knocks and has had to adjust.
💔
She’d give nothing more than to be able to love him once more,
But those days are dusted and shelved in her chains,
The golden memories are enough to sustain her advancing years,
Where she’ll revive them and dust them off on the days that it rains.
💔
He wraps his aching heart in the blood on her hands,
Accepting the inevitable, what more can he do?
He’s given up on a future, knowing this is as good as it gets,
Holding onto her friendship, respecting her point of view.
Please click the link below my name to read more of my work. I would also like to thank you for taking the time to read this today and for all your support.
If you enjoy this piece, you may enjoy this one too.
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Originally published on Medium
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
We'z Walking on a Path Ruled By Numbers
This road has felt endless, yet limited; every step tracked. Inching away along this path, I feel trapped. Confined. Left to this narrow passage that may one day amount to something greater. Time is not a concept. Only distance. From start to finish, I laugh and cry and attempt to convince myself that this is worth it. I cannot stray. I must keep going. Every step etched, is a step taken, is measured as more than before. I cannot even recall how I got here. Maybe I don’t even really exist. Just another tick marking off a perceived presence. Of what though? I am just another line drawn. Nothing more, nothing less.
By Oneg In The Arctica day ago in Fiction
Comments (2)
Now that is a gentleman! He respects her and didn't force her. We need more men like this! Loved your poem my friend!
This one hurts, I gotta admit, Colleen. Especially when not even friendship is allowed to be regained.