YOU

I still miss you
but not the You
which is now
what has always 
been

I miss the You
who looked at me 
like a newly budded
flower
on a seemingly dying cactus

though I was always
very much alive

but I liked it
the awe
the adoration

so I let it pass

I miss the You
who believed in betterment
of self

even if 
somewhat unwilling

and it perplexed me
a moment
but I allowed it
a slight
stumbling block

I miss the You
who never meant 
or ever wanted
to hurt me
 
though you did

and I let it happen
because I saw potential 

galaxies we could rule
instead of the handful
of stars
which to you
seemed sufficient

I miss the You
who I knew you could be
The Universe
The All
The Everlasting

Therein lies the rub

I don't miss You.

I miss the idea
of a You.

you were never going to be 
You

you...

were only a 
fabrication 
of my heart's fantastical 
ideals.




you’re not gone yet

your scent has left
my linen
and i can almost
pretend 
there was never 
a person
who shared
my bed

if only
these miscellaneous mementos
regretful reminders
of you
would stop
popping up

receipts
a pair of socks
a toothpick with the faint aroma
of
tea tree oil and
mint
random pieces of 
hard candy
a puzzle you  bought
for all of us
to do 
together

shadows
of you
waning

at a snail's pace



thursday night

i miss you. i miss you and i don't know why. i don't feel the same way, everything has changed, i'm moving on, having fun, my appetite has returned - everything's great, don't you know? my friends tell me what a great catch i am and as usual, the sharks have sensed blood in the waters of the dating pool and i am being 

circled circled circled

because how long can one delicious piece of meat splash about, arms flailing noticeably and failingly before going under? 

i miss you, god fuck, i miss you and i hate that random things jump out and remind me of you. and maybe i don't feel the same exact way and i guess a few things have changed, okay to be honest maybe i'm not having all that much fun, i wish i could just jump to being happy again and the fun isn't really fun, it's me slamming 15 shots of top shelf tequila in two hours because jesus fuck christ i want to be

NUMB

i am playacting at fun. i am the greatest performer in this bar and wow, another shot? sure. why not. the ones buying don't see past my glassy boozed up gaze or the drunken grin permanently affixed, frozen like a department store's front window mannequin. no, i am giggly, jiggly, and wiggly and i may be wobbly but i can see the hunger in the looks being cast at different parts of me, the mouths splitting open so i can see the shine of the whites of their sharpened teeth, jaws ready to gnaw at me, hands to grope and paw at me and 

fuck this noise

i miss you

i miss you, your chestnut brown eyes, warm and playful in the light, but mostly sad. so sad it broke my heart every time and still does even now, as only a mind's eye glimpse into my memory chest. i miss you and i miss us and i miss what could have been an exceptional and uplifting love story. i miss making magic in my  kitchen for you, watching you enjoy every bite of so much on the plate. i miss how we wrapped ourselves around each other, legs twisted together, pressed so close we were 

unity

i miss you, i miss you, and i miss you. 

i miss you because i love you and wow, not much has changed has it? i don't think i'm quite ready to move on, though i did give it the old college try. i can eat again but only in the tiniest of portions because sometimes my stomach decides to turn on me. nothing is great, i had to up my sleep dosage. i can't get comfortable in my own bed, your soft snoring was my white noise, i just loved having you near me, you were mine and i was yours and it was the first time in a long time that i felt so certain.

you returned my key, yet continue to live rent free in the caverns of my being. 

i miss you. i want to talk to you. i want to smash my phone to bits so that i can't contact you because i am staring at your name in my contacts, which i should immediately delete, but i can't. 

i can't

i miss you and i'm wondering if i should send you a message to see if you're okay but i know it's just an excuse.
i already know the answer is no. 
because i am not.

second place

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.


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.

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