giving an ultimatum the addiction or me was not my intent it was an act of desperation a move of futility the last thing i could think of to have a reason to stay because i knew all along just as the sun rises and as it sets i was never in the running.
Author: CC
Recent Events
Someone commented on how I looked as though I had lost a bit of weight. They were concerned as I've not much on me to begin with. My cousin is a curandera and she did a deep cleanse on my apartment while I was at work. I pulled into my spot, already feeling the weight pulling me under again. She was on her way out, I rolled down the window to my car and asked how it went. Apparently, whatever was/is left of you/us has been battling viciously to stay. No shit. "I gave him a piece of me and I won't stop fighting to get it back." She nodded and said, "I know." She walked away and I parked my car. A spot I rented specifically for when you would spend the night. Oh well. I stepped into my place and it smelled of Dragons Blood, herbs, and an earthiness I could not identify. And I was hit with exhaustion. It's become a familiar reoccurrence since trying to rid myself of All Things You. The first time, I tried cutting you out on my own. The whole thing knocked me out in seconds, I could barely make it to my bed to lie down before I was asleep, heavy and deep. No dreams, only dark. The smoke alarm woke me up, the string I used had started a small fire. It amazed me that it dropped upon a bag of clothes meant for good will and nothing else near or around the candles was harmed. But also a lesson that I was an idiot and I should leave the spells and rituals to my cousin who was far more practiced and knowledgeable in that area. I never believed in magic. The old ways of our ancestors, the Yaqui practitioners from centuries past, meant a damn thing to me. I believed in intention, goodness, keeping a karmic balance as best I could. I believed in science and tangibility. As a 3rd generation American, any semblance of brujeria in my bloodline had been watered down like that of ice in flat, flavorless soda and it would be silly of me to put stock in any of that kind of unknown. I equated it to believing in God. Yet, I knew I gave you something when we first met. I felt it. I gave you a fragment of my essence. A slice of me intended for you to hold and keep with you, safe and loved. Since the split, I had not been right. This was no regular heart-ache. I had loved and lost ridiculously hard before, this was Not That. I knew it was something out of my scope of comprehension. I asked for her help, almost set my apartment on fire, and then passed out. Lesson learned. My cousin's magic is strong. My home has been spiritually sanitized by someone who loves and cares for me, I am feeling well enough to eat again, and I feel the gnawing twist deep within loosening, unwinding itself. I tend to my plants, I've begun to straighten up the various messes, room by room. I miss you the way someone misses a memory. Faded, foggy, blurred by too much time gone by. Even though it's only been a few days. I am regaining my own strength, no longer weakened by my love for you.
Baby Boy
my youngest son runs his fingers through my hair it is long not wavy not straight a thick, dark, gleaming mass of unruly poof but he claims to like the softness and i feel his tiny hands grooming me gentle with love and sweetness these days are short soon he'll be of the age where this will be taboo inappropriate "gross" but right now he is my baby boy loving his mother in the kindest most simplest of ways.
what once was
the wick almost gone what was once a robust flame would soon flicker out
Cord Cutting
I've not been able to stop. These thoughts, sentences, feelings. Not even for minutes. Even when I haven't been able to jot down every living, breathing, writhing word, they all wriggle freely in my head, against another, with another, becoming another. I try and fail to make any of it come to some sort of sense. In the odd quiet, I notice the quick clicks and clacks upon my keyboard. After midnight in the city on a Friday. No sirens. No yelling. No squealing of tires echoing on the streets. Nothingness of sound. I wish I was as void as that. Somewhere, not so long ago, in a dream, I pressed myself against you, a soft but firm embrace and you did the same to me. Together, we fell into the waking sleep of souls connecting and the electricity of the event brought us front and center, face to face - rather, face in face, body in body, and it was the palpable just short of physical melding of something so far beyond our scope for rationale and reasoning. I know this was a dream because it is fading fast as the light of what used to be Us. There is no longer a We, only a Me and a You. I am drowning in the madness of missing you. But is it that? Or is it that have I lost a part of myself and this is why my stomach turns, my head pounds, my hands shake...I am going into shock because there is an integral piece of what Keeps Me Partially Whole not in place. I would like it back, please. Pack it up, wrap it gently - or not, leave it in a paper sack or store it in a gift shop box, I could care less how it finds its way home to me. I will happily and immediately give yours to you because I aim to cut any and all cords which bind. I was not made to carry you like this, alone and without solid promise for reunion. I don't fool myself into believing that you are suffering the same. You have your way to escape and hide from any and all things unpleasant. I do not. I have the eerie stillness of a Friday night in the city, the clock ticking, the branches outside my window rustling tip-toe soft as to not disturb the quiet, my fingers tapping away at this rant which you will never see. I have myself, my resolve, and what's left of what I thought was Real. And I have the strength to walk away.
When
When Breaks are Break-ups and there's no running from the truth When the love is there but neither has a thought on what to do When they try and they try because they don't want to lose it When the writing's on the wall but they plumb choose to refuse it When the words have lost meaning and silence becomes queen They leave each other, along with what could have been
crumbs
i left a crumb of myself behind followed by another and another and another every few steps in plain sight for you to find your way back i remain hopeful despite the dwindling of the light the dark is infinite i've dropped the last morsel the smallest bit left i wait don't idle long, my love the birds are circling and they are hungry
Pretty
"We can't help that we are pretty." "You have known this all your pretty self." "You have been granted leniency in life because you look the way you do." i am pretty? i would think i would have known this were it the case in fairy tales in movies in life pretty is saved pretty is revered pretty is respected i am not nor have I ever been pretty pretty has leniency. the old mans hands shriveled fingertips nicotine stained rough and peeling pretending a game up my timid and frightened 5 year old thighs i should say no but this is only a game and i want to be a good girl Leniency the friend of an uncle who is "family" beer breath against my neck scratchy scruff scraping my cheek in a whisper... I Am Becoming Such A Beautiful Young Woman and my 13 yo self wants to kick him in his gross hairy everywhere and run away BUT i want to be a good girl Leniency the entitled groping ass slaps tit grabs forced wet sloppy lustful hopeful kisses against unwilling flesh while i play dead nerves flinching muscles contracting an anxious stifled spasm of my soul i want this to end i am not feeling pretty no pretty has leniency i am the malformed monster seeking refuge in the dark
I’ll Cry About It Tomorrow
I'll cry about it tomorrow I don't have the time for it today Too much time deliberating Whether or not to walk away Dangling like a carrot Promises you don't intend to keep I'll worry about it tomorrow I need to catch some sleep I'll cry about it tomorrow No time, No time today I'll cry about it tomorrow When nothin's left to say I'll let it all out tomorrow I'll try and carve out some time Too busy drowning my heartache In this almost empty jug of wine We've said our peace, nothing's changed My heart can't bear this weight I'll think about this tomorrow Hopefully it won't be too late I'll cry about it tomorrow No time, Just no time today I'll let it all out tomorrow When there's nothin' left to say If I could have just one more day I promise, I won't make a scene I'll have dry eyes until tomorrow Just to hold you close to me Almost morning and the bed is empty Light slowly seeps in from dawn Tears flow to soak my pillow Tomorrow has finally come
Fine wine
We banter years have done nothing to whittle away our love It isn't what it once was We are older Far more tired than not Seasoned We can laugh at our former follies Joke about the flaws Compliment the qualities Mutual respect and appreciation An anomaly Old friends who became lovers Old lovers who became enemies Old enemies who became friends We've come full circle And as you console me with words which could have been used decades past when you last broke my heart words which are rolling off my back and doing almost nothing to stem the wound left from this most recent journey into Love's thorny territory I know I'll be fine. Friendship lasts longer And you and I have aged like fine wine.
But Otherwise Fine 