Maybe ain’t no good


It’s true, it took a while for me to see you. Really see you. See the value you possessed. I was still emotionally wrapped in the arms of another. Wrapped in the arms of my past. But I told you this, at every twist and turn. You asked and I always answered. Always. Did I not? I looked you in the eye and told you I wasn’t sure, because I wasn’t.

But now I am.

When I love, I love entirely. I am committed, bound to that love. Although, my dedication often keeps me tethered long after the lover has left. My heart still playing out the beat, even though the music has come to an end. This is who I am. I cannot shallow breathe. I inhale. I consume.

And that circus we inhabited, that land of possibilities, built on selfishness, didn’t help, as its fickleness fed yours. How could the idea of building something solid with you there not seem risky. Yet when you took me to your roots, showed me your kin, in that Gaelic light, I saw a man of worth. It’s just a shame his presence left as soon as the plane did.

But I meant it though, when I said that I choose you. Because I’ve honoured my last love now. Laid it to rest. Your love inspired me to do so. So perhaps you were right, in a way, you were a bandaid over the crack. Only it seems as though you healed me more than I ever thought you could.

But I will not wait for a maybe, anymore than I would have expected you to have waited for mine. Because we both deserve better than a maybe. Better than an ‘I might run away’, or an ‘I believe in second chances’, as you’re running out the door.

That concrete jungle we called home, peeled off layers. Swept away the detritus. But eventually, it left me bare. I became disinterested, disorientated and a sense of powerlessness washed over me like holy water, stripping me of sin. Yet returning to the lands that gave me life, have served to remind me of who I was and who I am.

And I am not a person who lives on maybes. I’ve built a life on taking chances, on seeing things through. On diving into the depths and learning how to swim along the way. And yes, sometimes I learn too late, but life’s too short not to leap over the kitchen table for what sets your soul on fire.

Sure, sometimes you get burnt, but you gotta accept that sometimes the lessons just come that way. That’s life baby. That’s living.