I once heard an old woman say,
“You can live as many lives as you choose.”
I guess I never really thought of it that way
until I lost all I had to lose.
You can break my life down into
a series of three parts.
For better or worse, it’s always been my view
they’re made up of endings instead of starts.
I grew up in a bubble
that burst when I was sixteen-years-old.
Apparently, I was trouble,
or that’s the story I’m being told.
I married just out of high school
to an Englishman, sculpted like a Greek god.
Marrying too young proved me a fool
for buying into a fairy-tale facade.
I met you while pregnant at twenty-six,
finishing my master’s degree.
You came straight out of my childhood.
You somehow rescued me.
We loved for years so happily,
The currents shifted. The climate changed.
Soon, we lived in the deepest hell.
We drifted. We became estranged.
The years turned cold and took over us.
We were in the blurriest of winters.
Nowhere could we find cover.
Our hearts grew really bitter.
I never in my wildest dreams
thought we wouldn’t end up together.
I suppose that’s life for you, though.
Never underestimate the weather.
I’ll not forget the day you left
and how broken my heart became.
I’ve cried for you a million times.
A million times, I’ve screamed your name.
Hatred and anger and pain.
I blame it on the Vyvanse.
I blame you just the same.
People ask me about my life;
how I’ve been all these years.
It seems I’ve focused so intently on the strife
and counted the memories with my tears.
Some recollections are lifetimes ago.
I’ve lived a thousand years.
Some things, I will never let go,
which is why I’ve cried a million tears.
I’m taking the best of you with me.
I’m laying the remainder to rest.
This new life I will choose to live.
I’m giving it my best.
I’m no longer running against the wind.
I’ll turn around now and face truth.
All I need is buried deep within.
I’ll dance to the beating hooves.
So, calmly with my hand over chest,
I feel my beating heart.
“I am enough,” I tell myself.
Here I stand. Here I start.