poetry

Be Not the Caretaker of a Human Element That Destroys the Magic. {poetry}

 

Every once in a while, we get lost in a relationship.

When love — or what we perceive to be love — is surrounding us with newness, vulnerability, quickening of heartbeats, imagining this new future, it’s easy to focus on the magic. Heat of the moment. Even when we are asking ourselves the right questions, being cautious, there is a natural, soothing flow of that falling-in process.

Promises are made. Words are spoken and woven into the corners of your heart, mind and soul. Cherished. Because at that moment in time, you are open to truth.  Your own, and what is being shared with you.

What I know to be true is that when doubt creeps in, when your own unique intuition is calling out to you, listen very carefully. That voice, that feeling, is always your absolute truth.

***

Not every day are we exposed to an extraordinary
element that we claim as our most wonderful
Be it a river, lake, pond, mountain, grassy knoll,
depth of a forest, snowy hilltop, cascading waterfall
concrete streets
comfort that calls out to us

Or the magnificent, powerful
overwhelmingly breathtaking, soul-penetrating
earth-shattering, mind-capturing
heart-welcoming, passion-altering
physically moving
musically movement and dance
of the Pacific Ocean
in a city
that promises
glowing, warm, sultry nights
just a few yards away

Kissed by moonlight
waves crashing, mist swaying
gently, wildly, elegantly
forcefully potent
beckoning to be adored, respected
loved, loved, loved
consumed with such a force
it will play in your dreams forever
You will always come back
or dream for more

Unless you are with a human element
that destroys the magic

Then, you’re just fucked
with that memory
until you rebuild it
on your own or with the one who experiences
the same paradise

Not the inadequately, inept, sad
I see only me one
who didn’t hear or see the glorious sea

He whined about his dinner
Ad nauseam
And that’s the very second that you knew
No. Not him. Not now. Not ever.
How the fuck did I even get here?

This is the moment when you realize
there is no lust, love, romance
or even a hint of sexual desire
Because you are still perplexed about
this push/pull, inconsistency
and hanging on
to hope

He is not capable of that rapture
yet there you fucking are

It’s only later
hindsight — what a glorious revelation
that you understand the deception
Yeah, girl, he thought he had game
He’s in love with his sad self
and drags you down, down, down

Don’t try to fix it, ever again
You knew it was over — with every fiber of your being
It’s okay. You’ve moved on.
You have been welcomed back and celebrated
by what you know is your truth, your beauty, your element
He’s a memory to be purged, eradicated
swept away with debris
vanished with the tide

And you got your Pacific back
On your own, standing with only your heart
worshiping the scent and mystery of the sea
that has always held you upright

That is when the magic happens
when honesty meets the see and the sea
and, beside you, the man making love to your eyes
has the privilege of sharing your Pacific

Wait for that One.

***

Debi Cooper lives in the Pacific Northwest, lives to love, write, spend time with friends, and explore new adventures. Feeling that California is ‘home’, she’s looking forward to a perfect Seattle summer. Then… who knows? That’s the best part of life.

***

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