It Hurts: Where The Poetry Began

Alright, here’s the real reason I’m writing this blog. I write poetry. I use it to express myself and to work through my own feelings. Over the past year, I have written 100+ poems on heartbreak, love, loss, regret, and the ride between one relationship to the next. I plan on posting these poems, but I needed to work through and express some of my own thoughts that lead to these chaotic feelings first. Now that you have a glimpse, here comes the whole story. Well, the story is still being written, but what I have of it so far is yours for the taking. Since this is a story told through poetry, there’s a lot of guess work to be done to fully understand how we got here. I give you full creative freedom to fill in the gaps with what makes sense to you, or what relates to your life. I’m sure you won’t be far off.

Where it began:

This poem I am about to share is one that I wrote wayyyy back in the original 8 year relationship that got us to this blog. This was year 6 or so. My ex and I hit a rough patch. We split for a small period of time, but even after getting back together, I discovered that he had met and began talking to a new girl in our time apart. That would be fine, except he kept it going even as he was begging me to make our relationship work. She came over one night (because they did some music together), and when I checked our living room cameras to see what they were up to, I saw her shoes and purse, but no people. They were in another room, presumably the bedroom. I wrote this poem right then and there. This is the beginning. This is where the breakdown began. Enjoy.

It Hurts

I see her shoes. I see her purse.

I don’t see you. I don’t see her.

The living room camera works,

But the room I can’t see hurts.

I sit, and I wonder if I did this all on my own.

Did it help that I know

How you felt about her?

Did you fall from my words?

Did you leap from my hand

And land there in hers?

I’m sitting, and hurting,

Staring at work at my phone

Where it seems no one’s home,

But I know, and you know,

And it hurts.

I curse at myself

For how bad it felt

To give you away,

Like the start of a day,

Where I sleep in ‘till noon,

Like a morning that’s used

For nothing.

Now I

Wake up early

And try

Not to hurt.