How do we know when it’s over?

When it’s done?

When we can no longer pretend?

No longer expect our feelings to change,

When our desire for love, life, passion

Are stronger than words uttered in a commitment long ago.

Life changes.

Feelings change.

Passion waxes and wanes.

“Children change everything,” they say

But what if those words come from fear,

A place of settling,

Afraid to face the desires stirring in our hearts.

So we go through the motions,

Convince ourselves it will be fine,

Try to “behave” our way back to love.

While all the while our hearts are breaking.

Breaking, because the feelings aren’t changing,

The love isn’t growing, it’s dying still.

And we die too.

Each day we swallow our desire for peace

When we betray our soul,

Out of fear for what might come,

Fear of the changes, the heartbreak, the judgment, the unknown,

The example set for the children.

People always come back to the children—what is best for them.

A family—strong, staying together, working things through,

But what if working things through means we lose our self?

Until we don’t remember who we are,

Settling for less than we dreamed of,

Not able to show them what real love looks like.

The small moments of connection,

Shared glances and gentle touches, in the actions of the day.

Instead, we teach them love means solitude and distance,

We begin to wonder when we will be brave enough—if we will be brave enough

To want more for them—for our self.

To show them things can change,

That change can mean leaving,

And leaving isn’t always bad.

The heartache involved is a different kind,

An open ache we can name and discuss,

Eventually opening our hearts wider, truer and deeper.

We realize we all will survive,

We will laugh once more, and love again.

We realize that believing in love might not mean staying.

Leaving can also mean you believe,

Believe in a different example of love.

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Relephant: 

She was Done.

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Author: Adrienne Pieroth

Editor: Yoli Ramazzina

Photo: Flickr/torbakhopper