The one that got away, Is a poem I wrote long ago. A poem about loving someone who turned out to be poison.
It was a poem that made me cry but also feel at ease for it reminded me of my power. How I walked away and said no to the ring from a poisonous prince.
The prince charming I said yes to, read my poems one day and got mad and jealous that I had poems about crushes and the dreams that crashed… Perhaps If he was a lover of words, a weirdly wired soul like me he would have admired how I played with words, how by reading them emotions awaken, the sound of broken birds singing beautifully… He would’ve boiled with anger, and sigh by the victory at the very end… Oh, but he wasn’t a lover of words.
That day a Prince lost his charm when I came home to find my poems ripped apart. It felt like an arrow in my chest, I gasped for air… My vision got blurry, I couldn’t see through the tears… Long story short, he becomes a history I got over.
But until this day, I can’t get over that poem! I can’t rewrite it… Nor do I wish to experience the pain that inspired it… But yes, that poem is the one who got away.
You can’t yoke yourself with a lover of words and expect she will choose you over, expressing herself. Nah I will go away, and write sad songs and poems about you instead. ❣