A WRITER'S BLOG
Maryjanes last dance,
my American girl
It was good to be king
And running down a dream.
Now I must know how it feels …
To be free…
RIP LEGEND TOM PETTY. YOU WERE THE SOUNDTRACK OF SO MANY LIVES. THANK YOU.
This was 9/27/17 just a few days ago.
From the archives:
This is the most popular of all my poems for the past year so here once again About a Friend.
Yes this is personal and yes it is true.
It is my experience that I am sharing with you.
We were so close like sisters people said.
Closer than that we were, it was over your head.
A bond that sparked instantaneously much like new romance.
Of course those that insinuated such did not follow the dance.
Give give, take take, it all seemed so equal at first.
No shadow of doubt, we would never be cursed.
Hours and days were spent sharing the past.
The laughter and tears were flowing and vast.
Each told of old sorrows and pain we had endured.
Consoling each other, we were each others cure.
We had found one another, knew it was different this time.
The ying to her yang, the partner to our crime.
We turned heads and made people wonder.
Quite a few tried to quiet the thunder.
This gave us our strength, like forces of nature together.
She and I against the world, no storm we couldn’t weather.
Life would charge in and test our power.
Tempted and taunted to see who would cower.
We prevailed time after time, year after year.
We drew lines for others that were perfectly clear.
Then one day it happened, the first of the clues.
A weakness exposed and a hint of a ruse.
“Not us I thought, this was not our path.”
Rips in the fabric, hidden agendas, you do the math.
And with just as much power as we united.
Truth had snuck in though reluctant and uninvited.
The face I began to recognize was that of a stranger.
I saw it clearly and knew of the danger.
I had heard the voice before and I remember I had shuddered.
Those combative words thrust at me she had finally uttered.
The loss was tremendous the grief devastating.
I now understood the line between loving and hating.
I missed her so, wishing for a branch or simply a leaf.
Yet not until I let her go was their any relief.
Why today of all days to write this for all to see?
Perhaps, maybe it means I can at last be free.
Copyright ©2007 Veronica Romm
First love is torturous. When it is also true love and presents itself at a very unfair age, it is a romance that will be tested… Who could possibly imagine that at seventeen, eighteen the high school boyfriend, the first love is the love? A love so strong and true it haunts her, always there in her heart and that place where nothing else will ever reside.
She lives and loves, enjoys fulfilling relationships with other people from various backgrounds who teach her the lessons she was meant to learn. Those loves can not be diminished for they help define the true love that is lost. With each bond extinguished the emptiness of the loss of him multiplies, grows when it should dim.
What if then he is once again there, wherever there may be? So close in proximity his presence is a constant tug on that place in her heart once she glimpses his face again. He is angry, still very angry, and again very angry. He says that she changed him, made him callous, and made him fear. The idea stabs her heart and that place where he still exists as he was, an idea that has been lost.
What if he is still that same boy who wants to free himself from fear and open up the place he says she destroyed? When he looks at her and the eyes, the eyes that haven’t changed the eyes she fell in love with, convey emotions that make that place in the heart tear a bit further, hemorrhage slowly.
She sees in those eyes the only man she ever met who she would want to be the Daddy. She sees in those eyes, in utter disbelief the man she has never let go. The one she would tell her best girlfriends about late nights, tears streaming down their cheeks, for the friend always believed too.
What if there is no chance he will ever trust her, ever let him get to know her as she is now? Never letting her show him how he loved her, how he taught her to love and because of fear and anger, lock away that place in his heart that only she had been given. Locked in a safe with the combination a faint memory.
All he sees when she looks in his wondrous eyes is the one that caused pain she cannot ever understand. He only wants to turn his back on her, walk away; speed away for it is dangerous to not speed full throttle out of her midst.
What if he goes against all that he thought he knew and lets her in? What if he takes the supreme chance and lets a love he can’t deny still exists, enter his life? What a chance he would be taking. He was once a gambling man but the odds, are hardly worth it? Or maybe the only risk worth taking?
What if he lets her in and she can put her guard down just long enough to show him how much love she has to offer him? What if they are as they should be perhaps, if things like that happen? Can they happen? Would he take that chance because he is like her and can’t deny that they are the most real he will ever be?
What if he never lets her in and wonders always if maybe she was who she claimed she was, the one that he loves just as she loves him? How will she stop the bleeding of her heart? How will he live knowing that she bleeds for him? With steely resolve? With regret and resentment?
What if they live happily ever after?
Copyright ©2008 Veronica Romm
