Poem 36

dedicated to all the men that have broken my heart and taught me how to sew my life back together again, to the man who first held me like he held his last love, to the man that i learned to love like a brother, to the men who i let turn my world upside down, to the man i had fallen for, and to the man who gave meaning to my favorite quote: “How some people can ache for an almost.” – bex chan
tumblr_n1wygtgseM1sl7pxho1_500 bus stop at the end of the street was the bus leading down memory lane i took it all day long and slept through the scenes they played in my head like memories of just yesterday. and i got lost in the romanticism of my own narration, not knowing that it was my own voice that sang the stories of life. not even a block away, i saw him he stood tall with hands gruffly stuffed in the pockets of his pants and he sauntered in without even a quick hello sat himself down at the very front seat but just like he had entered, he was gone on the next stop he didn’t look back, not even a glance like i hadn’t even been there not existing. the bus driver said nothing to him kept driving on with only one passenger seated at the back and i was lonely, so alone and in the company of sadness of the longing to love and most of all, to be loved and we didn’t stop, not after we had left him we kept going and going and going for the end of the city where my life had been before it hadn’t, and i saw him he hadn’t change one bit as if time had seized just for him, and he alone remained childlike –¬†innocent i didn’t think he would enter because he never would have in this life gotten on the bus that drove a different path, but he too was there, standing so comfortably and familiarly together like a blinding billboard in the freeway and there they stayed for quite some time keeping company the once lone lonely maiden in the bus making me laugh like the old times hadn’t disappeared as if the ripped parts of my heart hadn’t been torn, never needed skillful patching up. and they remained even after he completed the perfect picture of three i saw the past that broke me to a million pieces the thing that drove me insane and sane even when he arrived with that pink stuff toy that i had stashed far into the depths of my heart, mentally and physically, they didn’t leave he laughed with them like old buddies that’s how men were, they were friendly and the line from strangers to bros become blurred and completely undefined. and we drove on picking up someone i hadn’t seen for quite some time i lost him a long time ago to his first love. the person i trusted so easily broke him the same way i had been broken by the men around me and we were in good company, the two of us surrounded by all the “he” that had tugged and pushed like they were playing a game of tug of war with me i had never felt more alone that i did then that was when i realized, it was me who should be blamed for the embellishments and exaggerations of their kind hearts i had deluded myself into believing that i could trust in them place in them the heart that i had always protected i prayed for the next stop for them to alight and as they did, he came into view the image of me reflected in his eyes, childlike and i found a friend of solitude, of comfortable quiet stillness. in him there was innocence that i had long forgotten and now reminded that i desperately wanted to grasp i wanted to get off because he hadn’t gotten on, just simply welcomed the rest to stand by him in waiting for the next bus to arrive i leave without choice and i move on, no one around me safe for the driver the stranger that was leading me to my very beginning we passed stop after stop where many of the “he” i knew looked at me expectantly, worriedly or rejecting i felt no home in any of their hollow eyes the road was long and winding, slopes both high and low and we didn’t mind the speed, drove without precaution the driver speaks to me for the first time that day with a raspy voice full of cobwebs and dust as if he hadn’t spoken in years, this was our first encounter i find out that he is a he and he tells me this is his last and tells me to depart with a kind of dark toothy smile we reached the almost barren lot safe for the buses that had long been decommissioned, out of a job and he was there waiting with a smile i knew too well with his arms open wide, so familiar and warm nothing that i had ever truly known. he had a bountiful of truth and love that i dreamed he shared with me   he was my last stop

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  1. Beautifully written. Captivating. Inspiring. Simply wonderful.

    1. Thank you very much.

  2. […] I’ve told you about it before…?) I definitely wrote a poem, Poem 36 Bus Stop. It’s been written since the day I was born and it only grows and warps by the […]

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