This is how it ends

This is how it ends
With me acting like I don't care that you are leaving
Saying that you are not worth fighting for
Reminding myself that this didn't mean much

We were never really a couple anyway, were we?

This is how it ends

With me laughing at the intensity of the flame we shared

At the promises of eternal love you swore while in the throes of passion

At the futile efforts I made to rekindle our dying flame

We were not really committed anyway, were we?

This is how it ends

With me forgetting the taste of your flavoured kisses 

feigning amnesia on the dates you routinely cancelled

And the texts you routinely forgot to answer

We were never more than 'jus talking', were we?

This is how it ends

With me refusing to cry over the promises left unfulfilled

And the climaxes yet unreached

You didn't just rip my heart apart anyway, did you?
Because we were never really a 'we', were we?

BACK TO THE PEN

I have not written in over a year. Well, I have. But text messages and emails and work reports or letters do not really count. I have not written a blog post in over a year.

Weirdly, I am content in spite of this. Because I have found other ways to explore and express myself. I've found other ways to interact with the many thoughts, emotions, and situations I experience. I've matured. I enjoy short walks in the evening. I've decided what genre of music soothes or energizes me depending on what I need. I've found diverse ways to connect with people and share my thoughts. I've explored some habits I'd like to keep and some I need to boot.

At first, I stopped writing because I got busy at my job and couldn't make the time. Then I had the time but my heart wasn't at peace. And I couldn't bear to write because every time I was alone with my thoughts, they went to a place I didn't want to dwell. Then I found ways to deal with my insecurities and control my fantasies. But, I'd already become lazy. I was already reading less and less. I had pulled away from the things and the habits that nurture my inspiration. So even when I did sit to write, my thoughts would not pull together into words I could shape

In 2018, I want to get back to writing. Because I am lonely without my scribbles. Because I love the person writing makes me. Because I like how literature and poetry influence my relationships and my ability to intimately connect with the people I love. When I'm writing, I feel in sync with my purpose and I'm better placed to pursue my many dreams. When I'm writing, I don't struggle to express what I'm feeling. It is easier to ponder on the diverse experiences I encounter.

I want to once again write about my experiences. I want to write about the world as I am in it. I want to pen poetry again. I want to explore new subjects.
I want to write my heart out.

So I shall write!