Tag: poly breakup

  • Sweetie

    That’s what he is.

    Just so sweet and gentle.

    He presents himself differently at first glance.

    On our first date, he took out his grill to eat dinner.

    But when he talked his voice was so soft and smooth.

    He told me how much he loved nature and about the owls that hoot outside his bedroom window.

    He spoke of his family.

    Helping his grandpa and living with his uncle.

    How much he loves his mom.

    His heart is so pure.

    He grew up rough, but made it out.

    He’s so proud of that.

    Everything about him is endearing.

    There’s an earnestness in him, a genuine intention.

    I can tell he makes a conscious choice to see the world with hope and wonder.

    He loves to talk dirty and I fucking looovve talking dirty.

    Somehow he makes that sweet too.

    Our sex is so crazy good, he ravages me and worships me all at once.

    When we’re together he can’t stay out of me, and I don’t want him to.

    He makes me feel alive and liberated and also steady and safe.

    I can tell he’s falling in love with me, but is trying to hold a boundary because I’m married.

    It makes me nervous because he’s not poly.

    And I think I’m the only person he’s seeing right now.

    I like him too, and see potential for loving him.

    But I’m afraid to let myself.

    I don’t want to go through the pain of heartbreak again.

    I’m still trying to pull my way out of it and some days are really hard.

    I’m not sure I’m ready to risk that happening all over again.

    Is this being poly?

    Euphoric bliss followed by crushing pain and then the cycle repeats?

    I trust Sweetie.

    But I trusted my Warrior too.

    And he devastated me.

    I don’t want to close my heart, but I do want to protect it.

    I want to be its safe keeper and make choices that are responsible for my mental health and capacity.

    So I need to go slow.

    Take care.

    Maintain a safe pace.

    I need to remember how to trust myself again.

    To feel secure and devoted to myself before offering devotion to another.

    But along the way, there is still sweetness.

  • Yellow

    I remember everything about it.

    The last time I saw you.

    I wore that yellow sundress.

    We went to the farmers market and held hands among the produce and flowers.

    I wish I’d known.

    That day was the last day.

    I would have looked into your eyes longer.

    Held your hand a little tighter.

    Memorized the shape of your form as I held you inside me.

    Spent hours with my face burrowed in your neck, smelling your smell.

    I’m starting to forget it all.

    How long has it been now?

    Months.

    I haven’t kept track, but it feels like an eternity.

    You haven’t seen my new purse.

    My new flip flops.

    My hair is longer again.

    It’s starting to sink in that you may never see anything new or different about me again.

    I’ll be frozen forever in time in your mind.

    Always the way I was when we met.

    Always wearing that yellow dress on the last day you saw me.

    You never said it.

    Couldn’t.

    Told me lots of reasons why, but I know the truth.

    You were scared.

    Are scared.

    It almost came out a few times.

    You thought I didn’t notice but I did.

    Somehow avoiding those three words made you feel protected.

    And that you were protecting me.

    But you said every other thing.

    That you adored me.

    That you’d protect me forever.

    That we’d always be in each other’s lives, no matter what.

    That if I were single I would be yours, and you’d never let me go.

    I wonder how you’ve made peace with all the promises you made.

    What kind of reasoning you’ve worked out so you can sleep at night.

    These days I’m processing a lot about us.

    The choices I made.

    The choices you made.

    The way I offered my whole heart to you.

    How you couldn’t receive it.

    What I’d do differently if I could.

    What I’d do the same.

    I’m haunted by flashes of you.

    Images and slow motion home videos playing through my head at the most inconvenient moments.

    Your hands.

    Opening the door for me.

    On the small of my back as we walked down the street.

    Grasping my hips as you moved inside me.

    Your fingers intertwined in mine.

    I’m not sure I’ve ever experienced anything like us.

    The intensity.

    The passion.

    The speed at which you made me feel seen to my core.

    The level of intimacy you invited me into felt too good to be true.

    I guess in the end it was.

    You unraveled me.

    Each day I weave another piece of myself back together.

    Not the same as I was, not yet who I’m becoming.

    I’m making a new tapestry of me now, one that has loved you and then lost you.

    Woven with the bliss of your love, and the pain of your abandonment.

    To you, I’ll always be the heart-eyed girl in that yellow dress.

    But I’m not her anymore.

    And you’ll never see how I transform now.