~ a poem ~

Every time I see them
on the street,
or when they get into my car,
I wonder:
How did they do it?

How did they meet?
Do they get along?
Are they secretly at each other’s throats?
Or are they actually happy?

Couples baffle me.

Looking back on my love life,
I can solidly say
I’m pretty bad at dating
and relationships.
I know this stems
from the example
I grew up with.
Being the product of an affair,
seeing my mother visit my father
once a week,
left a lasting impression.
It’s how I viewed my relationships.
It’s why things lasted
so long
with my last Ex.
Seeing each other once a month,
or two,
was normal.
Being second fiddle
to some other person,
though inside I was hurting,
felt familiar.
It’s what I knew,
what I know.
It’s why I stayed with another
for three years
even though,
while we lived together,
he’d randomly say things
that telegraphed
we wanted vastly different lives.

When I see couples,
I wonder:
Will that ever be me?
Am I ever going to find someone
who wants to be mine
forever?
Am I destined
to be alone?

Lately
I’ve been repeating
a random Zen quote
I got from Twitter:
My current situation
is not my final destination.
It’s a mantra for my life.

I have to believe
I’ll find someone,
or they’ll find me.
I have to believe
I will fall in love,
marry,
and have my three children.
We’ll live in a small
but nice home.
I have to believe
the life I want,
the life I dream of,
is achievable,
even though my model
wasn’t the best.

I don’t ever want
to be the other woman
again.
I want to be the wife.
When that happens, though…

Categorised as: Emotional | Poem | Writing

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