We are seated here:

a table full of stored-up disappointments,

wishful past lives and broken dreams.

we are brave, we are sad, we are here.

 

Our minds have traversed thousands of journeys on their own,

neither one knows how the other felt, but we know where we’ve been.

We can relate.

 

We have poured out our belly’s contents dry,

spat venom at pity and cursed comfort in its roots.

We are inconsolable.

 

But this was not our doing.

We are victims of our pasts,

heartbroken lovers who cannot love again,

rejected flames whose sparks are dim.

If you gave us the chance,

we will rewrite our story,

making wiser choices,

taking different turns,

becoming different people.

 

We prefer the road not trodden because it must be better than this.

We are angry at the odds that led us here,

but hopelessly hopeful that tables will turn.

Yet we are seated here.

A round table of queens

With stored up disappointments.

We hold dear our hopes for better lives and regrets of past mistakes.

We are brave enough to speak about what was  and was not our doing.

We are sad that it happened to us; why did it happen to us?

We are here to find solace and maybe some peace of mind.

 

May we not be bitter about what we could have had.

But may we see the blessing in the hurt and places we have been.

They are pieces of us now.

They are part of our story.

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