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The Truth Is




I wish  I could say,
"I gave you the best years of my life!"
But your not here now
And I am much better than I was
When I was with you.

I was young and dumb than
Full of  romantic notions,
Hopeless schemes,
Foolish talk.

I have seen the horror of the world
And know that love can only do so much
And that anger can do nothing at all.

I take magnesium now
And the rats that used
To run circles in  my guts
Are quiet.

I eat a snack in the afternoon
And take a nap if I can.
I drink better wine.

The world maybe burning
But the sun is shining
And the sparrows
Are building nests
Outside my window.

I  wish I could say
“I gave you the best years of my life.”
It’s so dramatic
But truth is I didn’t.
I kept the best,
This moment, now
For myself.





Author notes

Liked the idea of this contest, It prompted me to write this poem, but I am a man. So I will disqualify myself. Thanks for reading it. I hope it will help people move on.

A contest entry

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Comments


  • Danna Hobart
    May 11
    Edit | Reply
    I like the strength of this piece. Thank you for entering.


  • grammabuff
    May 10

    Edit | Reply
    I love your tale of the end of a relationship not being the end of the world. I particularly like "I have seen the horror of the world
    And know that love can only do so much
    And that anger can do nothing at all."

    Disqualified! What a shame. I vote to include this poem in the contest.

    Uppity Women Unite. Buff


  • BabyDut
    May 9
    Edit | Reply

    u can only say it when you mean it

    nice piece, there is a line my mind wants to read I drink bitter wine, instead of better wine. but i like it and can understand the times you must have seen in that moment of your writing. they are strong words, love how you ended it... to me you make it sound like those years you still have yet to put to a good use! good luck in the contest...


    Rae


    • Budart
      May 9
      Edit | Reply
      I have found that, for me, Art gives meaning to the joys and suffering of life. No matter how intense a situation is I am always thinking in the back of my mind, "This will make a story or a poem some day." The experience of living is just emotional art supplies.

      Of course that still leaves open the question what the hell is art all about?