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Soul mates | Confessions of a Stoic [confession 3] by Stephen A. Dantes

 

She talks about righting wrongs and recreating history
But her wounds were deeper than any eyes could see
Says that she dove in with me, once again, wholeheartedly
But the damage already done was way beyond recovery
Then, came the admission that she tried to change for we
When we both knew that ‘we’ was just a synonym for ‘she’
And that the ‘me’ part was longing for a taste of reality
Where she actually allowed chance a possibility
But as always, she’ll blame the man nature of me
And claim that the issue is deeply rooted in my anatomy

 

She claims to have ‘loved’ me unconditionally
Her speech is past participle, so there, you see?
If you ask anyone, ask anybody
And they will tell you that that type of love never fades in history
Yet she boasts of such immortality
In a tense that only death can carry
If that’s not proof enough that she doesn’t love me
And probably never have, then let’s behold this in its entirety
She professed to have loved me, and I, the same, to she
But never did I question her loyalty as she did me

 

See, you heard it yourself that I never made her priority
And that she ranked somewhere at the bottom
Of this ladder of numerous options which I allegedly
Have and had the choice of them being loved by me
Or them loving me… whatever her statement was, see
I don’t even know how to answer this completely
Cause I’ve just realized that honesty
Can only carry a man halfway through his journey.
I tried to explain on several occasions that she
Was the only one, the ONLY one for me

 

My profession was in vain though I tried openly
I wanted her to realize and see that it was always she
No other could take her place, not in this eternity
But she doubted me, and she questioned me
In the end, it all boiled down to her insecurity
She failed to believe what I kept saying endlessly
Then accused me of that thing about priority
Everyone saw how much she meant to me
Sadly, she was the only one who was blinded by a falsity
That in itself was the beginning of the end of we

 

I’ve been stubborn one or a few times too many
And when we started facing the harsh relationship reality
I became rebellious in defence of me
Then I was left to hang on to my own sanity
As I pulled away from us, secretly
At which point I believe that honesty had failed me
And my heart too had grown exceedingly heavy
For the first time in a long time, I cried, for we
Then chose to move on being lonely
In the hope that one day, maybe I would understand, me

 

But in all fairness, I think I should agree
That many times I acted like I had no love for we
And it’s true that she didn’t request much of me
And I wasn’t there the times she needed me desperately
Truthfully, it pained me that I could not have acted differently
And hurt even more when her concerns recurred daily
Maybe things are better this way for we
Maybe our chance was jinxed by our personality
Maybe I just don’t deserve someone like she
Or maybe she doesn’t need someone like me

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COMMENTS CLOSED

Tsahai05  (August 2011): this is ringing too true in my ears, is it a urse relationships must go through, like a constant battle with honesty and insecurity…

Lisa  (August 2011):  love is like a fire with the flames are not fan. it goes out when he said her love is past participle its because and as he said he had no time for her she did not want much but what she wanted he would not give. we women love deep and i truly believed she was in love with him but he was blind to that fact.

Cami  (July 2011): None can doubt the veracity of this article.

Chrycee  (June 2011): Hmmm…. This just continues getting deeper. So many sides to one story. Amazing how we each view stuff. And amazing what lack of communication causes. Imagine if they’d both taken the time to actually tell each ither this stuff during the relation!
Anxiously awaiting the woman’s response.

Luanne  (June 2011):  I like it. Lol. I can definitely relate. This guy just keeps getting better and better with all levels of writing. There’s something for everyone.
Keep writing Stephen. I am a fan. Been reading your work from the first time I saw you perform in Manhattan.

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