April 8, 2015

To my Ex. {Poem}


It’s true.

I loved your gentleness, your sly wit, your insatiable curiosity, your devilish grin, the smell at the nape of your neck. I appreciate what you saw in me. Or hoped to see.

You brought a laughter bubbling up out of me accompanied by the thrill of a promise yet to be filled.

But, at some point,

I/you/me decided we could no longer be us.

I walked away.

Or you did.

Or maybe we both did.

The details hardly matter. Time shifts seemingly immutable facts. Right and wrong lose relevance, and feelings once vivid dull when left out too long.

What I do know for certain:

Our relationship had to shatter for me to become whole.

Upon the shards of it I built a better me. I picked up fragments and, in doing so, sliced my hands.

When overly nostalgic, I look at the scars, now healed, and remember,
“You can never again go home.”

You and I were each other’s home.

I lived in you, and you in me.

I look upon you now with all the care and love for a place I once inhabited.

I peer through your windows, a stranger now, and marvel at all that is changed and new and lovely.

Leaving with reluctance, I sigh, and acknowledge the twinge in my heart which says,
you belong here no longer.



The One who Ends It isn’t Necessarily the One who Wants it to End. {Poem}


Author: Lisa Manca

Editor: Caroline Beaton

Photo: Flickr


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Lisa Manca