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Ethel Theron Poem
I want to see him as someone who did me wrong... in order to let him go. I want to no longer love him at all and just see his true colours as brightly as they show. Put up a wall, draw a line in the sand. Let go of his hand. And see him for who he is, now that I know.
For some reason I still feel like he is in there. I feel like he is just lost. How could I have thought that he was more than just a season… and not just a stumbling block. Another lesson to add to the past mistakes I thought had locked... locked away. Never to be looked at again…
I find myself still wanting to be there. Help him deal with all that I know he now feels. In my absence… his loss… How is it that I still care? That he still consumes my air? How is it possible? How did I get here? Why did I hang on for so long? Pretend to be strong?
Why can’t I be angry? Why do I want to reason? Am I crazy? I would not allow nor condone this kind of behaviour from anyone. And yet I’m worried that he is alone, when I should just be done.
He is like a parasite in my heart. Sucking out every ounce of love I have… and he is not even anywhere near me. How is it possible? How is it that I have given over so much power? When did this happen? When did I cower? Am I clinically insane, I have to be. How is it possible that this could be me? I feel so lame, lame as in my body is numb... lame as in how could I have been so dumb?
Blind to what was as clear as day, deaf to the words that continued to drum. Getting Louder and Louder from all sides. No matter how much I tried to hide, or run from… the words which echoed everywhere and anywhere trying to find me. Shouting at me so loudly. Knocking at my knees, allowing me to weaken, slowing me down and forcing me to crumble to the ground.
Stopping me in my tracks. Stopping me by showing me all the cracks… in a perfectly crafted, weaved web of lies. Forcing me to look it in the eyes… forcing me to stop.
Stop. Drop. And roll. Acknowledge the flames setting fire to my soul. Siren’s blaring… fires blazing… forcing me to let go. Now that I know. Now that I see. How is it possible for there to still be love left in me?
Copyright © Ethel Theron | Year Posted 2025
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Ethel Theron Poem
Sometimes, I feel completely alone.
No matter how much I try to reach out,
or try to connect.
Sometimes, I feel unwanted.
No matter how much love I pour out,
or try to perfect.
Sometimes, I feel misunderstood.
No matter how much I try to explain,
or try to correct.
My delivery
always seems off or lost in translation.
I’m told that I’m “overthinking” or labelled “crazy.”
Sometimes, I feel inconsolably sad.
No matter how much I try to pretend,
or try to mask.
Sometimes, I feel broken inside.
No matter how much I try to mend,
or try to bask
in the ambience of joy and life.
Sometimes, I try to block out the whispers
of birds in the night.
Telling me that something is not right.
Telling me to trust my gut and run the other way.
Telling me that I’m blinded by the light
of my own rose-tinted glasses.
Those whispers have followed me across oceans and seas,
through familiar and unfamiliar species.
And yet, I still fight to believe my own heart.
Fight to hold on to the parts
that have been shown to me.
The picture of what will be, shall be, can be…
The promise of what’s to come,
and not what it is.
The constant voice that is as elusive as a ghost.
That appears, disappears and reappears at its own will.
A voice that creeps up and says “I want this,”
“I love you,” “Don’t go.”
Words that are intangible and float in the air.
Yet, hold so much weight in my heart and soul.
That pull me apart and make me stay out in the cold,
begging for warmth,
begging for more.
Breadcrumbs that feel like a feast in the moments I receive them, reminded of a time when my tummy was once full.
Holding on to the hope that with each promise and chance provided, we get one step closer to having all the tools.
Needed to build the home and settle in the nest.
It seems in my search for a love that is free,
I realized that all I needed was a safe place to rest.
Paradoxically,
I fell in love with one who has no desire to be a home…
Who has no space to hold.
Who wants to be free.
Copyright © Ethel Theron | Year Posted 2025
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Details |
Ethel Theron Poem
I was born in the wrong era:
My heart longs for romance
My heart longs for love letters
And public declarations of love
My heart longs
My heart longs for chilvary
And a tip of the hat when I enter the room
My heart longs
My heart longs for doors to be opened
And flowers on my doorstep
My heart longs
My heart longs to be serenaded
And not to feel jaded and complacent
My heart longs for clarity
And confidence
My heart longs for a Bridgerton..
And Wuthering Heights kind of love
The kind where it’s unwavering.. uncontainable and where no one loves the other more
Where the love between two is shared and declared
My heart longs
My heart longs for those stories where our hearts beat as one
In unison, beat for beat
A love that cannot come undone
A love that is strong and complete
My heart longs
My heart longs for a love that holds a safe space
A love that knows no bounds or excuses
A love that knows each crease in my face
And dares to study each corner of my mind
A love that withstands the test of time
Shouts from the rooftops
And cannot believe that he is mine
And I am his
A love that reassures and adores
Every part of me I try to hide
A love that is transparent and kind
My heart longs for a love that’s difficult to find
A love where I can bare my all
And know that in his arms I can fall
A love that brings peace to the turbulent sea that is my heart
A love that will cross oceans and travels the seas.
A love that climbs mountains just to be close to me
My heart longs to be set free
To pour out all of the love contained within me
Without being left feeling empty
But rather a reciprocation
Of unlimited and unconditional love
A love that is deep rooted in an unmoving foundation
Of peace and respect
My heart longs for a love that does not need to be checked
A love that is easy and seamless
The hopeless romantic in me no longer tugs gently
But, screams for the loves described
My heart longs for a great love
A love that is inscribed
in the scriptures
A love where I am his rib
And he is my protector
My heart longs for the softest of loves
That allows the flowers in my garden to bloom whenever he is near
Consider this my prayer for the love
For which my heart longs…
Copyright © Ethel Theron | Year Posted 2025
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