Some days, I drag you out of the place I store memories
I have entire conversations with you;
In them, I consider how things might have been;
What should I have done that I didn’t do?
If I had been easier, more compliant,
Or maybe just less than;
Would it have been different for us?
Then, when I finish the conversation;
Between you and I, in my head;
I realize the outcome is always the same;
If I were less and you were more;
You would still have walked away.
You would have still been you;
The you that always sought more than me;
The you that didn’t see in front of you;
Beyond your own need to be more;
The you that didn’t feel my heartbeat;
And I know that I would have still been shattered.
But you that couldn’t love me;
Because you only loved you;
And I was never the reflection you wanted;
I was the mirror, your gaze turned away from.
When I finish my conversations in my head;
My heart hurts for lost time and pain.
But like so many other things in life;
I let you go back to the place;
Where I hold other things of memory;
The demons of past loves and destruction;
I know I will drag you out again;
If only to remind me why I let you go;
It is my nature to dance with my own demons.

30-Dec-23

I’m keeping this one.
Me too! Thanks
Absolutely sad, beautiful, honest writing, Val.
We all reflect back from time to time… and soon remember it couldn’t have gone any other way than the way it did. And yet, it’s worth the time travel when we recognize (again) our part in it is the only part we had control over—the only part we ever can have control over.
All of this life is a dance—whether with friends, family or lovers; whether a beautiful dance or a clunky one, a short dance or long, whatever it is, we all learn (or at least have the opportunity to learn) to dance better with every partner we encounter.
May you have many opportunities this coming year to dance, Val. That one great dance partner you never thought you’d have is waiting out there for you, and that person may be nothing like you imagined.
Much love to you.
Thank you Sue. As I said, I somehow always dance with my demons.