Promises made and kept
To Love You
Wednesday Prose Poem: what’s in a promise?
I made it when I first saw you. Not in words, you were too young to understand. In my heart. Close up to several others that I still keep.
Nestled there, unflinching. Remaining unaware of all the gymnastics necessary to keep one of those damn things alive.
But they shouldn’t know, right? Not the pain we endure to hold our heads up and be true. Not the tears — especially not the fucking tears that rain down on us at times making slick the walkways we trudge across; the highways we drive on — day in and day out. All to keep these promises alive.
But promises are like Crazy Glue only stronger — made of love and belief and soft fibrous bits called passions and faith. Holding it all together.
Our lives. Our desires. Our need to feel important — as we dispense a lifetime’s worth of commitment, in small doses. On birthdays, on graduations, and especially weddings.
When we hand over the reins to someone we really don’t know. And hope that they don’t screw it up. That they keep the whole thing in one piece — to love and honor.
And not allow too many other promises to drift in and out. To collect in obscure corners of their hearts — not mine.
My heart just holds a note now, a simple reminder — that the promise was once mine and I took it seriously.
From a prompt by J.D. Harms
