Familiarity
the rope which keeps us tethered
The tug of war
between mind and heart
between you and I
stay together
come apart
calloused palms
wounds healed
the blood
long since dried
reddish brown stained fibers
a reminder
of how hard we tried
I want to leave
I try to stay
You hold me close
you push me away
over and over and over
again
I lose
and
you don't win.
this push and pull
never ends.
Tag: relationships
The Second Death
I am once again mourning the loss of
What Could Have Been.
I have already gone through the grieving process of What Was
the death knell had been knocking,
knocking
knocking
and not quietly at that
there were moments when I thought perhaps we would pull through
the odd flickers of burgeoning life
peaking through the sickly nights
maybe we were not terminal
perhaps there was a chance
we could make it
we WOULD make it
a passing
dwindling
hope
as we continued the road
to expiration
the optimism of idealists
is the first bloom of
false spring
when it is still clearly winter
As our pulse faded
our breath slowing
to make way
for the
Death Rattle...
My tears had long since dried
The Acceptance,
a soothing balm
after the
initial shock,
the frustration fueled discussions
that circled
circled
circled
until they collapsed us into
a depressive heap,
the bargaining
for another day
another way
another chance...
The End was ultimately
The End.
I am comfortable with our passing.
Now I grieve for all
we will never be.
It is a second excruciating death
Far worse
Than the first.
Regression
I had been going back and forth for a good long while and it didn't matter how much love I had for him in my heart, I remained solidly... unhappy.
And every moment with me, I could see him trying. All the efforts to please me, the gestures he thought would put a smile on my face, earn him the recognition of "Doing the Right Thing" - there I remained, lips tight, body tense, powerless to tell him to stop, as I witnessed each and every attempt fall flat *splat* at my feet.
The feet he would caress every morning when he awoke before me. The rough and dry, sharpened skin of his hands, a contrast to the softness of his tender touches. A dew drop of a kiss on the tips of each toe.
I couldn't take it anymore. I loved him in the grown, adult, mature kind of way that women my age do. No pretense, no tomfoolery. Only truth and the matters at hand. I knew, without a doubt, I was the red flag. And he would continue to love me regardless in the same patient and kind way he had been loving me this whole time.
I had to let him go. And not because I wanted to. Not for a lack of love and desire. I had to let him go because I was yet still too unhealed to properly accept the unconditional goodness, faith, and affection that someone was giving me willingly without having to be begged.
I was hurting him. The way I had been hurt so many times before. I was the villain this time. And I couldn't stand myself.
He listened quietly. He didn't argue. He didn't try to talk me out of it. He mostly maintained silence as I spoke and although I wanted him to disagree, to argue against me, to fight for the relationship, he did not. Because he knew I was right. We both knew I was right.
I am not meant for the beauty of his soul. I truly wish I was.
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
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.
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.
Damned
I didn’t want to talk to you.
Receiving your messages before, I shrugged them off.
Curtly. Succinctly.
And I owed you nothing. Not a damn thing. I didn’t have to call you back.
But I’m not built that way.
I’ve spent far too many nights reaching out to empty bottles and lonely walls echoing my wretched breathing and the staggering pace of a sickened heartbeat.
I’ve played the part of functioning human while all were none the wiser to the inner cataclysm that just seemed to be on a never ending loop of emotional implosion.
No. I didn’t want to talk to you.
But I didn’t want you to be lost in that all too familiar gaping void of isolated solitude, either.
Begrudgingly, I did what I had promised myself I would never do again.
I let you back in.
Gods curse my caring heart.
Love (haiku #39)
Shattered Fragments Of
The Person I Used To Be
Love Isn’t Easy
His Anger (haiku 36)
He, Burning With Rage
Flames Fly Forth, She is Scorched Earth
Ash Wisping Away
Not Bitter… much
If I had a dollar
For every time you said
“I’m Sorry”
“Guess I’m Just An Asshole”
“I Never Meant To Hurt”
“I’ll Leave You Alone”
“I’ll Never Bother You Again”
Well.
I guess I could take myself
For a rather extravagant meal
Somewhere posh
With cloth napkins
and well dressed
waiters
I’d enjoy every bite
of
many things rich
succulent
and deliciously fattening
My belly
happy and full
I’d leave a
generous tip
and smile with contentment
Knowing
That somewhere
you were choking on your own bullshit
Wasting away to the Nothing
You always knew you were.
