I found an old journal that I started using to collect all of my poetry. We all go through phases, right? Especially with wonderful high school and college teachers encouraging us to express ourselves with poetry. I started the book in Ms. Dunker's creative writing class. I compiled poetry from over the years, scratched out on scraps of paper, and kept putting any poetry I wrote in the journal. I thought that one day I would publish a collection of my poetry. That may or may not happen.
In the mean time, I will share some of these little gems with you folks and the thoughts and feelings they still inspire in me as I read them.
This one is called "Summer of 98"
A special friendship I thought I'd find,
lustful emotions instead did bind.
I hoped for a relationship of serenity,
instead a hatred of mock insanity.
What has happened to our souls?
A lackluster fire of empty coals.
Your fantasy was so kind to you,
but my reality rang just a bit too true.
What did you expect? A pure God-dess?
Only fools would expect no less.
A silken angel of dawn tread times
made wholly immortal through a poet's rhymes.
My soul-sealed friendship was yours to take,
but you were expectant of a much better make.
A friendship stance I wanted from you;
but, lover's stance, you held aloft so cruel.
I was no goddess of lustful desire
so the friendship asked was place on the pyre,
my illusions lost deep in the fire.
No matter how far removed I am from the incident that inspired this poem, I can quote it and it still evokes such strong emotions. This experience was a major catalyst in my life. It was the time I went from the belief in a "one true love" to the need for one to love me. I became a little more jaded because of this incident and went from being a hopeless romantic to a practical person. I had spent most of my life (to that point) absolutely in love with this young man and had kept loving him even as he changed drastically (and not completely for the better). I had never asked anything more of him than friendship, but his expectation after four years apart was romantic and then when he discovered that I was not the physical expectation he had, he wanted nothing to do with me (even though I had traveled all the way across the country to see him!)
And because of that, I married my best friend. A man who gives as good as he takes, who appreciates my practicality and admires my strengths rather than obsessing about the fact that I am taller than he is. A man who would rather snuggle with me watching British comedy, than complain about me not being "the perfect size". A man who supports my goals and dreams, while keeping me grounded.
Thank you, my first love, for teaching me so much so that I can be happy now.
I hope you are happy too.
What do you think of this poem? Tell me in the comments below.
Until next time,
Keep Reading!
