4.8
December 27, 2018

What I Learned from the Lovers after You.

 

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A post shared by Waylon Lewis & Friends (@walkthetalkshow) on Dec 14, 2018 at 11:14pm PST

 

Never would I have imagined taking another lover,
Another’s embrace.
His nuzzling feels different from yours.
Lips locked with a new dance of the tongue. 

How could this be?
A magic I thought only we created.
When you vanished, I thought I would never
experience bliss again.

My worth defined by you.

I placed that power in your ever capable hands,
only to have it squeezed to death.

Suffocated.

Confused.

Abandoned.

Alone.

Wrung dry, yet soaking wet with crimson tears
from my bleeding heart.
Every breath felt like a thousand cuts.
Shredded open, I began to explore the ruins.

In the midst of this hero’s journey,
I discovered an aching treasure, raw and so very real.

An undying love—one that will surpass this lifetime.

A capacity within me to love, again.
It holds no permanent shape.
Its ever-morphing ways keep me on my toes.

I notice it all around me.

The loves.

The abundance.

I emerge with a soft strength only my former self could envy.
Who’s this woman?
Her eyes gleam with a certain confidence.
A sly lift of the corner of her mouth.

That’s me!

Your withdrawal of love did break me—but only to make me whole.

I have many lovers now.
Various. Exquisite.
Not just the human variety.

I make love to words on the regular.

In the morning.
Afternoon delights.
Middle of the night.
When the fancy strikes.

I make love to myself.

Soaking in steamy, hot baths.
Pulling my body over steel bars, further callusing my hands.
Pounding the pavement and growing stronger with each stride.
Surfing my yoga mat with the flow of my whispering breath.
Listening to my soul in silent meditation.

An intimate connection full of space.
An unfamiliar territory, a seductive adventure.
Swimming in uncharted waters,
no moonlight to guide me.

I step forward, wounds and all.
I come forth as a warrior of the heart.
To give voice to those who’ve
wept and crumbled.

Painting my life with bright new colors.

A blank canvas.

The brushes come out and go crazy.
This is the time to create from my core being.

Who I am will be seen and heard.
Only magic—my magic.

~

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Virginia Lung

author: Virginia Lung

Image: @walkthetalkshow/Instagram

Image: Author's own

Editor: Nicole Cameron