Thursday, October 2, 2014

For him, the man who broke my heart.

There is nothing like love and loss to stir one to write again. Here are a handful of some recent writings, presented in chronological order. In case you are wondering, no, he never saw or knew of these.


You worry about the cold Melbourne winters,
worry not.
I will warm you

I will weave for you
whatever you need
out of my overflowing love
that has waited for so long.


I'd sing you a song,
or write you a poem,
of my love
and my hope of a life together.

But I fear
you would not listen
nor enjoy it for what it was.
Instead you would
it to what you had,
or to the fantasy
of what might be.


If I could open my heart
and show it's trueness to you
Give you my eyes,
So that you know I see
your faults
and that I love you

would that then be enough?


I am writing about you
I am
not over you,


But soon hope to be,
as do similarly hope
my friends and family
for they don't believe
you worth my time




The problem with absence,
is that it makes
the heart grow fonder.

The problem with time, is that
memories fade and
hurt heals.

The problem with the present, is
your boyish charm
and warm smile,
remind me
how attracted I am
and how much I cared.


Now that I am free,
now that I am happy
(or at least telling myself I am),
I don't wish you ill,
just insight
and that one day
you may feel motivated
and strong enough
to change.
Not for me,
but for you
and for him, whoever he may be.


all words copyright matthew schiavello 2014.

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