The Day The Music Died

Disclaimer: This poem is not about my married life but somehow, I can relate to this poem as I experienced being ghosted in my younger years.

The most thrilling stage of courtship is when somebody tries to save a woman from a problematic relationship. Like, I became the center of his universe, his oxygen and life support all at the same time while lovebombing me. The attention that he gave me was just over the top. Before I knew it, I was already drowning in his sea of love madness. The comparison between the prospect and the present relationship soon became lightyears in difference. This comparison resulted to seeing a possible future with the prospect and leaving the old wounded past behind. Months after accepting the new relationship, I saw familiar patterns in the tug of love game. His excitement started to decrease. I was just one of his conquers and I fell for the trap. Confused, I asked him what was wrong and if there was anything that we could do to bring back the warmth in our relationship. Of course, it was like bargaining my happiness every now and then instead of just walking away with pride. When the ghosting happened, I managed to ask him later on why he did what he did when we started so in love. He could not answer and left me wondering if it was my fault or not. (Cut me some slack, I was young at that time)

Now that I am older and wiser, I realize that we should let people go if they want to go and never ask them to stay. So yes, this poem is probably an old version of me.

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