Bittersweet

I’m not bitter… I’m like an eclipse. I just haven’t lost my moon.

I’m not trying to be bittersweet, but then again I’m done trying… I’ve stood in the blocks ready to run the race many times but I never took home the prize. No matter how swift my feet were, or how far they carried me, I never got further than “no”. I’ve met a dozen “NO” men, but where’s my “YES” man who equals out my equation. A “punctuation” at the end of my sentence that can turn my question mark into an absolute exclamation point.

I’ve been through enough. Damage builds character but it also changes my perception. I can’t see as clear as I used to, but even with spectacles every man still looks the same. Trouble. In truth my vision is far from the problem, it’s the lack of focal points of importance that stays my directive. Where are the men worth seeing because I’m tired of gazing upon “problems”. My eyes have seen enough of those, and that’s why they’re shielded by the rising of my moon.

On the brighter side of things, I’m at peace. As long as I continue to be the dawn of my own happiness my sun will never set to another falling star. All those that approach me, can still see my rays, but will have to travel a far distance to experience its heat.

But in my darkest days there’s no trust for anyone. I patiently anticipate pain. I wait with an eagerness for men to fail my heart and continue adding to the trail of my tears. As each hour grows darker the hope of a promising experience fades further into the backdrop of my life. Where are the soldiers of fortune to whom will polish my tarnished faith in man and brighten the wake of my night? My hope in a perfect love has almost diminished.

So here I sit. Not waiting, but rather lounging in my contentment until the day comes when my two halves find reason to become whole again.

© A.L. Lewis