Damned by the Dreams of a Lost Love

A Prose Poem

Image for post
Image for post
Photo Source: Pinterest

I have drowned myself in work — work that I love, work that makes me happy. And it is in the evening when night slithers its way in that I feel the pain of having loved so many years ago and lost. I know the heart is stronger than the credit we give it, but I’ll be damned if it doesn’t take forever to free itself from pain.

And I am tired of waking up to thoughts of you, tired of feeling your lips pressed against mine, tired of wondering what you’re doing, how you’re doing, and if I still mean anything to you. I do and don’t want to be a factor. Why is it so hard? There shouldn’t be a plethora of questions on this subject. I should have a degree in broken hearts and delayed healing —

Love’s Recovery, 101.

Battered and unmanned.

And I do. I settle into the nightlife, ease myself into an escape route of books and words that are not my own, and remember that spells can be broken.

I am not cursed.

I am not cursed.

©2020 Tremaine L. Loadholt

Written by

I’m more than breath & bones, I’m nectar in waiting — Owner ACG •Editor PSILY •Writing for the cosmos. •https://acorneredgurl.com

Get the Medium app

A button that says 'Download on the App Store', and if clicked it will lead you to the iOS App store
A button that says 'Get it on, Google Play', and if clicked it will lead you to the Google Play store