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Where the road meets the light and heartache in your head leads you down backroads begging for an end.

You leave a life behind you and a new end to begin.

You have taken an oath and broke it, out of an affair you birth a reminder which shames you to repent.

I would give you my all. I have forgiven you at the cost of my heart. I let the burden roll off. The tail lights lead you away from me but pain is not far off.

I would give you my all. I would raise this child as my own. You dont have to face this alone. Dont run away from this and let your heart turn to stone.

I spend my every moment holding onto a phone waiting for a call that is you saying that you are coming home.

I would give you my all. Let the lights redirect you. Let the radio play a song. Let your heart be convicted; oh God just please come home. The dark cannot comfort you nor can it hide your shame.

But we can face this together and start a new day. Where each step I am with you. Where you are not out of place. Where I can protect you, give you all that is mine. When the humility comes I can hide you and assure you that it's fine, Speak for you when you cannot find the words to say.

But I can not make that decision for you. All I can do is wait. I pray that you change your mind. I pray that you stay.

My wife cheated on me and who I thought was to be my firstborn I found out is not mine. My love and relationship to God has helped me overcome this past few days and has allowed me to forgive her and decide to raise this child as my own. My wife is undecided wether or not she will stay with me but I gave her the option. I cannot emphasize how this has been the most painfullest experience of my life and yet inspiring and has helped me to grow spiritually in my relationship to God and the capacity to forgive and love someone through the massive amount of pain they have inflicted upon me. I hope as I do everytime I write something that not only can they relate to it but it move them to an understanding of aomething they are facing or will face and help them overcome. Thank you for reading.
CarolineSD Jan 19
The night is a broad canvas
And the mountains emerge along the edges
In serrated silhouettes.

A black ribbon highway lies ahead
Splitting the snow-brushed open spaces that
Glow faintly white
Under a yellow moon.

And here, I will forget

All that rests behind.

I will give up these thoughts of
Not being enough
And let
The great painter brush
My soul into the very center
Of this wild
And forest-laden place.

I will rush along the snow-touched pavement
To the darkened bodies
Of the hills

And a love that
I can feel
In the atoms of the air.

It is born of wilderness
And winds
That tumble from the high rocks
And bend the grasses only to rise
And begin again.

It is born of narrow roads
At higher elevations
And hidden, rushing streams in places
Where I walked along the banks
And held your hand.

It is born of my children’s laughter in the
Orange-red sunrise of the morning

And it is born of forgiveness;

Forgiveness for what is forming on the canvas of a life
I have washed clean

And it is born of finally allowing myself the grace to see

The beauty of it.
Michael Marro Jan 10
The deepest beginnings start by wading through shallow waters
A thought inspired by Ackyra Maver Hunt's "Maybe I like you", published on Poetizer.
Michael Marro Dec 2019
It's been 30 years since I've had to think about these things.
A long time between lovers, infatuations, and flings.
While the players are new, their roles have stayed true.
(Yet I find myself lost; don't remember this cost!)
As I relearn the rules of woo.
First bit I wrote as I began my new life. Funny how how much is the same and how much more has changed!
Molly Sep 2019
If I could have one last conversation with you
A final day in the sunshine
I'd tell you I love you
for the first time
and the last.

If there's one more thing I could teach you
It would be that the way you're living
is no way to live.

But I'd say it in my head, send it through my exhales in the hopes it subconsciously reaches your ears,
so as not to ruin the present moment.

We're sitting in silence
knees touching
bodies leaning into each other so it all hurts less

You'd stroke my eyelashes as they flutter with your fingertips
I can't remember what your laugh sounds like anymore

I can picture you laughing, but it's like a silent movie

But I remember how your voice sounds as it cracks through your tears
And I can see your restlessness
even with my eyes open.

I can feel your sadness
Its weight I can still see imprinted on my love seat

If I could tell you one more story about myself,
To the version of you that was still open
like a sunflower
so willing to receive

I would tell you that I'm tired of being scared
done with hiding my need to be protected
so tired of staying up all night guarding my own heart.

I may require affection and love more than you're used to giving
but you have seen my love move mountains for free
and I need just once for someone to do the same for me.

If I could meet you for the first time
one last time

I would share with you that I see your fears and I honour them
sooner than I did before.

I'd tell you
you're safe here

I would believe who you said you were the first time.

If I were to say goodbye to you again
a do-over
an un-doing

I would sit fully in that moment with you
and thank you for your honesty
forgive you for your shortcomings

Accepting that you never really unpacked your bags

Even though in my mind,
we had already grown old together.
ness Aug 2019
⁠and finally,
I realized there was nothing of me lef⁠t—
save scraggly roots and a dried out husk,
which I used to tinder flames
and burn the bridges that tied me to you
while wishing, but not knowing,
that I'd rise again anew
Sometimes the only way to save yourself is to set fire to the hold structure and start over
I can't understand why
I cant let him in
Hes been nothing but kind
But I'm stuck in my own skin

How could he see me
As beautiful and brave?
I've lived in this body long enough
And believe me it always caves.

He can't look at me without smiling
And its contagious, I do the same
I want to know so much more about him
What he hides from the world, what makes him afraid.

I want to let my walls down for him
But I'm so afraid to let him in
I'm actually a lot to handle most days
When he sees the real me theres no way I'll win

I keep telling him I am messy
I'm not sure he understands what that really means
How can I explain how most days I hate myself
And there are days I feel like I'm torn apart inside of me.

How do I let someone new in
With all the baggage I come along with
I'm not sure where to even begin
I should probably just quit.

If theres one thing I'm good at
Its self destruction at best
I know hes gonna see that soon.
I guess for now I'll give it a rest.
bones Jul 2019
I'm surrounded by these four walls,
My thoughts bouncing off of them;
Loud and clear.

I find comfort in these four walls,
Knowing that my cries for help never leave,
That when I wail at night no one can get to me.

I also feel trapped by these four walls,
They make me feel small,
The white colour blinding me when I come up for air each time.

But these four walls know me better than anyone else here,
They know the real me.
Because when I leave these four walls every morning,
I leave as a new me.
its been a while since I've written on this website. it feels odd to be back.
I hope this poem makes sense in some way.
Jen Apr 2019
Sun dried pages of a book
you've carried around
long before the first day
your father picked you up
and you felt what it meant to be free.

The cover scratched
from the cobblestone walkway
leading up to your front door,
the one where mom always greeted you
with a smile that defined the meaning of home.

Coffee stained corners
from the first all nighter you pulled,
the day you learned
to keep your thoughts tucked away inside your bag
instead of out in the open where drinks and feelings are easily spilled.

Two covers stuffed
with a life times worth of letters
arranged into stories
that haven't felt like your own in years.

Paper filled with unfamiliar feelings
flee your fingertips and you realize,
you haven't been concerned
with holding on for a while now anyway.

Sometimes the pages stop making sense,
and all that's left to do
is drop the book completely
and create a new one.

                And you use what you learned,
                                    but leave it behind
girasol Mar 2019
His eyes are a different color
His hand in mine feels odd
His words sound familiar
His strength more obvious
His love more secure
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