One thing I rather enjoy about online dating is people can freely express themselves with little restraint, little hesitation, and overwhelming relief. Friendships take time to build trust before disclosing skeletons stashed under your bed, behind your hanging clothes, or even arranged neatly in a chest, containing dark treasure. This dark treasure is something that, once revealed, creates a sense of trust. It also creates a connection unlike anything before. I talked to a guy who’s heart was broken, his story broke mine too
His fiance left him with all he had — nothing he could do The havoc she started and the lies she believed, drove her to something rash Devastating him in all he knew because he believed this love would last His heart was filled with her, with no signs of ominous clouds All happiness, finances, strength, and trust he devows It’s not a question of enough or why she walked away But at this point, what more did she need to stay? She doesn’t know the mark she made — worst part is she doesn’t care To fake stability and survive another day is his biggest prayer Bewildered that giving everything didn’t constitute an explanation With no way to identify the source: infidelity or inebriation Destroying something beautiful and never looking back Blocking him from all contact — shattered without tact Moving out and moving on from their plans outlined in lace Once a proposed happily ever after — now jarred from his place The promises she broke — but better yet the man Are supposedly a part of a bigger plan But how can beauty or better yet, anything rise from this rubble? It’s easier to believe substances and 80 proof will alleviate this trouble But he found a black ink pen could be his device Along with blue to describe his pain with spice He effortlessly bruised the paper like she bruised his soul With blows like depression and things he couldn’t control His mildly barbed words rendered everything a little tender On the battlefield of love, he was her elite contender Not fighting with but fighting for her His momentum slowed, words starting to blur Tears that fell like what they vowed But her power here, now not allowed She emptied him of enough — her future control ceases He’ll only wallow in the pain if his poetry pleases It’s been almost a year and his compass points due north Along with his poetry pronounced with radiance and girth He’s propelled by the past and God knows by his pain A book to publish; his life will never be the same So he’ll smile the next time he tells the story of the girl that escaped their forever For it’ll be in published prose — success and revenge together
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AuthorChef Steph cooking up trouble. If she can't find anything real, she bakes real good sweets. Chocolate really may mend a broken heart... Archives
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