Twins: Photo by Tremaine L. Loadholt

The Crossroads

Tre L. Loadholt
Feb 19 · 2 min read

I owe you —
I never thought a heart could
break into a million pieces
until you captured mine,
mangled it, shook past lives
from its hold, and wagered
with its weight.
your storm is what I needed most.

Since your departure,
I look at my hands,
my fingers, my feet, my toes.
nothing looks the same.
nothing feels the same.

I am this new thing without you.
I have had time to crawl
into spaces left unchecked,
pull out my confidence,
and rest in the wake of
a healing body.

I am at a crossroads —
one road less traveled versus
another with potholes
and traffic jams.
and I see myself smiling,
happier to have had this loss.

This, in a bold and gratifying way,
is my muse. It is my understanding
of a new world without blinders.
Without stop signs and smoke signals.
It is my appreciation for a détente
in the middle of a growth spurt.
For a measured path at
the end of a tethered rope . . .

I bet you didn't think
I would thank you for
this growth one day, but
I am grateful for every
denouncement you threw
in my direction.

I wear stronger gloves now
and the next series of
curveballs headed
this way will be fiercely caught.

©2018 & 2020 Tremaine L. Loadholt

Tre L. Loadholt

Written by

I am nectar in waiting — Writer•Editor•Forever-Student. •

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