I don’t mistake my longing anymore

The creeping of longing

used to capsize my brain,

elicit in me

the creak and the strain

of a weary heart

in need of true care:

bumping and thumping

to thoughts unaware.

I stopped to start over,

I started to stop —

I realized these thoughts

are all contrived on top

of a carousel ride

I deserved to get off.

.

Rewind back in time

to a place in The City

I tied my worth to the words

“you look so pretty.”

And in that shared walk up

on Amsterdam Ave

I thought he’d choose me

as I sat clasping my hands

in a room clouded with weed.

The clock kept ticking

and the TV buzzed

his eyes glazed far away

I wanted to feel what love was.

.

And now as an adult

I no longer press play

on those aching memories

of sometime yesterday.

.

Yet, I remember

how well I did ache:

for his eyes, for his yes,

for the the bus that was late.

Where I scanned metro card

so turning wheels could

take me cross town

and each time I would

feel a bit lost

on that transit line

since all I was doing

was begging for time

from a man whose hands

couldn’t create home in mine.

.

My present-day longing

slingshots me back

to the love that I missed

through the sidewalk cracks

in a boy who couldn’t care

the way I now know

honors the woman I am

and her mighty glow —

so

I sit with the feeling

in my writing chair

and I calm and soothe her

and agree — it wasn’t fair.

.

I settle back in

to my power

lit up inside —

everything I need

locked into my stride

and I keep doing the work

to fall deep in love

with the beautiful person

I know I’ve become.

.

My loves:

keep the man in your past

who still belongs there

and thank him for being

a step on the stair

so that you might arrive

on top to

the woman who rises

beautiful, strong

worthy and thriving.

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