Saturday, January 9, 2010

Just How It Is

I don’t think I have to say much about this one. I think this is really common among those of us who have gone through it. It seems to me that women can let go of men easier than men can let go of women when you sieve out the game players and only talk of the ones who really try for love. That has been my experience. So maybe this poem is more for men in the aftermath than it is for women. This is serious stuff. Sometimes we men die of it.

Just How It Is

I have let you go
again, again, and again.
There is still a thread
of you left in me
that will not depart even
though that bit of you
that extends beyond
me hooks, catches on odd things
and tears holes in me
as I pass on through,
minding my own path without
you. This is just how
it is.

March 17, 2009 8:56 AM


  1. Christopher....this one.

    Well. I think this is how I live.
    And how I love.

  2. I guess, Liz, you and I have things in common, but we knew that...

  3. Well Christopher, I've visited here before and this time your poem begs for a response.

    I find it gut wrenching, especially the notion of a memory that 'tears holes' through you.

  4. I think we do carry something of our lost loves with us, but some of us fold up the threads and keep them in our treasure boxes, trying to prevent more holes.

  5. I have noticed exactly what you describe in terms of how wounded men can be by lost love. Men seem to bear the wound with much more silence than women as if to speak of it would be the final blow.

    I'm happy to have discovered you. Your poetry is riveting, real, true.

  6. Elisabeth, welcome back.

    Hmmm, Karen, perhaps that is one facet of the difference, that the "threads" are moveable for women and not so easy to move around for men. I have solutions to my hurts, but these solutions don't involve putting them away. I don't really know what I am trying to say here though.

    Anthony, I am sure you do know the feeling.

    Bonnie, thanks for your insight. Welcome.

  7. I know it isn't true,
    I know it isn't true
    Love is just a lie
    Made to make you blue
    Love hurts

  8. simply and accurately presented.

    it is like that remnant that of a fiber that somehow can be dislodged - sometimes a bothersome ticket, and often the pebble that cripples over time...

  9. Ghost,

    What's love got to do with it
    do with it
    What's love but a
    second hand emotion


    Kim, thanks for saying so. Or the fiber of food stuck in your teeth and you without a pick.

    uh oh, now I'm started, like the scab that bothers you but if you pick it it's gonna hurt.

    I hate it when this sort of thing gets going. I'm irreverent in my own blog. Shit.

  10. Oh damn it! Okay, i will get to compassion then.....

    beautiful poem my friend, and timely for me today, as usual.


  11. some wisdom I learned from trees:

    don't pine away over old flames...

    but so much easier said than done

  12. It's all so complicated. And sometimes we lie to ourselves, as well, to make matters worse. Sometimes those lies are hard to sort.


  13. I know i am responding to yesterdays poem. The one today is beautiful, really, but beyond me.
    It's in this poem where i still am. It makes me laugh, actually, and all the responses. Maybe it is not such a bad place to be, for now i keep hanging on to that thread :)

  14. Erin, I know. That's where forgiveness becomes crucial, is it not?

    Jozien, if you hold that thread, hold gently.


The chicken crossed the road. That's poultry in motion.

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