Snowflakes Falling

Today I am posting an old poem. It was written over a year ago. I am not exactly certain why I am posting this now. It's July, which has nothing to do with snow. And what is described here has nothing at all to do with the relationship I am in now.

I suppose it has to do with how far I have come. I wholeheartedly believe there are no mistakes in life. There are only lessons to be learned. This poem is about a very painful lesson I learned. From this lesson I was very much able to understand what a healthy, happy, positive romantic relationship looks like. I experienced the exact opposite, and through this experience a great deal became clear to me.

It took quite a bit of time to heal from this experience, as well as support from understanding friends and family. I took the time focus on myself, and made it a point to improve my mental, physical, and spiritual health. When I emerged from this process, I was fresh and new. My head was clear and I knew exactly what I was looking for in a man, and I knew that I was going to hold out until I found him. That the wait was worth it.

Standing where I am now, the wait was definitely worth it.

Snowflakes Falling

I walk down the street holding the hand of a man I will never see again

He has hurt me more than I care to know

But in this moment I




Point out the beauty of

snowflakes f







passing through the orange-yellow of the streetlamp

How the light hits the snow

How a tree branch is jagged negative light in the lamp

How beautiful it all is

I hold his hand not knowing the scar it will leave behind


I lay in bed with him

He whispers soft words of love

And I




terrified of what his love will do to me


We cry and shout and argue all night long

He does not want to let me leave

How can he not understand I must


That we will destroy each other if I do not



In the morning

The city is covered in snow


At peace.

Slowly stirring as people start their day

As if no storm has occurred during the night

As if hearts were not broken

As if words were not thrown like slaps


I walk down the street alone

Feeling more hurt than I care to know

I try to recapture the awe and beauty of the snow

But somehow it is




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