You tell me that you love me, yet you mention her by name. You said she was no good for you, and made you feel great shame. You compare us and dissect us, to see which of us to gain. Meanwhile, I suffer silently, reeling in my pain.

She left you feeling unwanted, took your child and then she was gone. And left you sitting mindlessly, wondering what made things go wrong. Another man in the picture? Your son mentions his presence there. It seems she’s moved on, however briefly, forgetting the vows, which you had shared. 

After little time had passed, you pursued my heart to keep. Soon learning forever after, was a price, to you, too steep. 

Her plan, with her new man, somehow has dwindled and gone astray, now seeing you some what happy, makes her long for the good ole days. 

She misses your devotion and the love you gave her, true. Now suddenly, she realizes, she can’t see you with someone new. Of course, now she has you, I was never yours, from the very start. I was just the rebound girl, who rejuvenated your heart. 

Now you’re just a toy being played, in the wicked witches hands. Today she’ll gladly take you back, til she tires of you again. 

And where does this all leave me? My faith in people shattered, with distrust. Picking up the pieces shamelessly, dusting off my battered heart, with great disgust. 

One day true love will find me, my faith will see me through. God’s love will sustain me and make my heart anew. 

Picking up the pieces, 

Penelope 

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Sometimes words, along with confusion, get in the way, of what the heart is trying to say. If I can relay one important message, I care. Not with eyes that see the exterior, but with a soul that seeks, beyond human barriers. 

You are cared for, each and everyday. And you are loved. 

Penelope 

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Signs are all around me. Everywhere I turn. Something jogs my memory and these feelings for you burn.

Sitting at a stop light, walking in the park, remembrance of interactions, from the very start.

Fighting to forget you, It’s hopeless and can’t be done. When fate is in the making, the battle’s already won.

Penelope


Someone recently asked me, if I feared challenge. Life in itself, is a challenge. We take from our life experiences, then allow them to define and make us. And sometimes, reshape us. 

So my answer to this question, hell no. I do not fear challenge. 

Penelope 


Sometimes there are no words, only tears. Tears shed for the disappointments of both past and present. Tears shed for an enduring heart, which bleeds for its happy ending. Tears that bring comfort and understanding, without uttering a single word. And tears to wash away all grievances, in hopes of a brighter day. 

So today, I allow myself to cry.

Penelope 

I’m awkward, you’re awkward, weird, and strange, too.  What a catastrophic mess, the things we do. 

Uncommon bond, ignited by soul and mind. Intuition and faith, find its due time. 

Uniquely different, yet oddly the same. The perfect definition of ying and yang. 

Tortmented in the wanting of this devine circumstance, more comfortable to leaving things as mere happenchance.                                               

Penelope  

I am a conflicted soul, torn with good intentions. There is a battle being fought, between my old self and the awakening of someone new. The new self is someone I can admire and respect. She is a seeker of God’s will, seeping with purpose and integrity. The old self is fighting to keep control. Change is unwelcomed. All possibilities must be abolished.

Why do I want to better myself? Isn’t self-hate and loathing part of the package? This is all I’ve ever known. Finding temporary fixes, with temporary people. None caring what I see or feel. It is a me, verses them, kinda world.

I’ve had so called friends, they knew of one weakness. A caring heart that gives, but never takes. Men, they flattered, some were convincing. Time told a greater truth and revealed false words spoken. There were signs, I just ignored them.

Disappointment, a familiar, but unwanted friend. Where is the love? None was shown, in all referenced above.

Alcohol, it’s sometimes soothing. It numbs the pain…sometimes. It’s fun to be carefree and to pretend life isn’t unpleasant. The morning after, says something entirely different. My reflection in the mirror asks, “What have you done?” I don’t even recognize myself.

You’re a stranger to the woman hiding inside. The one fighting to break free. She is broken and bruised, yet does the right things.

She has ended those relationships, with uncaring friends and men. Searching for something greater, to wash away the sin. Her life has new meaning, because she is caring and true. It has been a long journey, but she is making her way back to you.

God of mercy, continue your work in me. Guide this woman and set her free. A servant of whatever, you have called her to do. A soul on fire, that longs for you.

Faithful, but still falling short of my weaknesses.

Penelope