Unhinged

I handed him the shovel, build us a foundation, I’ll stand with you forever, make it sturdy, give us a fighting chance.

Opened my eyes, to find darkness, trapped beneath the potential, the hope; dreams.

Screamed, lost my breath, traces of blood in the cover, trying to fight my way out, but potential adds more weight, tells me to give it more time, it’s almost ready.

Gasped trying to wait and not die, buried beneath the very freedom I sought. Another whisper, “I am here”. A different voice, the weight begins to shift.

Imagined potential and hope created the dream I’d always wanted. I listened to the hiss of air as I got closer to the surface.

Kicked away the cover, nails scarred into the wood, the ground drops, nothing lands above me. Another kind of darkness surrounds me.

I called for you, where have you gone, lying on the ground, skeletal remains, a body that I once loved, eyes blinded, defeat drooling from lips I once feigned to kiss.

I tried.

I held on to you, but heard the whisper, “you’re sinking, who will you be, if you lose yourself again”

I let you go, my arms stripped, yours filling with stolen flesh, stolen life, I crawled from you, ran my hands over our plot, found the shovel; removed the dirt from my box.

Rolled you in, hands burning at every touch, I took the cover and nailed it shut. The mewling tore me to pieces, but I knew it was you or it was me. You gave up, I knew I couldn’t. My arms rose and fell until the cover couldn’t be seen. A eulogy was all I had left, tears surged from me, knees betrayed me, hands forsook me.

I dug, screamed I would never let you go, your roots took hold of my legs, your poison already seeped and birthed from the earth to remind me I belong buried, hidden from the sun. A whisper, “how long before you truly learn; a dead man does nothing but kill a live woman, who will you be?”. But,

I can’t let you go, even as I watch the ground make room for me, I feel the pressure around my thighs. A yell, “who will you be?”, a hand reaches down to me.

I hear your cries.

I see a whispers hand, light pours from every fingertip. My wounds begin to heal, the pain lessens, tears slow, I feel the poison draining from my soul.

I touch a whisper, no longer a voice, a being, like a thread pushing through the head of a needle, the light travels within me. The edge of the plot in sight, the cries of desperation slight. Sand beneath my feet, the light now surrounding me.

I look over my should, release a sigh of relief.

I could breathe.

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Aviril

Those days were Heaven, it usually is when

we’re in the same space, but you

leave, I move, the pages

change.

I remember before, tainting the

now, exhausting forgiveness when it

could be replenished, amidst feelings of

neglect and being misunderstood

Just say what it is,

not what you should.

Nostalgia

You remind me of my father, not in a good way.

You remind me of the ice that sets in when he makes a mistake; no flexibility, no desire to change.

You remind me of

the times he called me stupid, and she stood by and watched my face crumble in pain, yet made no move to console me, reaffirm me; love me.

the few times he said he loved me, but when it mattered he hurt me more instead of helping me heal.

the times he realized he was wrong, but never apologized.

You mostly remind me of the wall I never learned to get through.

of love half given, half shown, never fought for.

I wanted you to remind me of anyone but him.

I remember how it used to feel to think about you, the giddiness and warmth that would spread through me – even after months – I couldn’t get enough time with you or thinking of you – now – it’s fleeting – that feeling – filtered down through situations that caused mistrust and disgust – started to waiver and get lost  trying to understand the reasons why – realized reasons are lies we tell ourselves to make things okay – I won’t lie to me – they say the truth will set you free – but truth and trust are the beginning of all beautiful things – the gateway to love is closed – the keys lost….not lost but discarded for moments of pleasure – not a mistake – a mistake happens once – a choice was made – a choice I wasn’t apart of – no thoughts of me nor warmth spread – no moments stopped to think of the destruction from boarding trust and truth away.

In Passing

I look at photos of you, from before, and it feels like another piece of my ventricle is closed off. I wait for the dull ache, but the feeling burns. Memories tainted every time I go back to use them to hold on, but all I hear is “was this the real you”. Who is the real person, how real are you with me? Things I never questioned before you betrayed me. Slow and long I’m suffering, because now we don’t speak, when before hours couldn’t pass without you wanting to hear from me, days never passed that you didn’t call to hear my voice, I don’t remember what you sound like, smell like, taste like. You’re foreign to me, like an amnesia, waking from a long sleep, thinking you’d be there, yet I’m always alone, I gave up thinking I’d hear, “I’m home”, the moment is gone.

I miss you all the time, you think I don’t, maybe you don’t think of me at all, but I think of you, every single day, not for a second, but for minutes, sometimes I have to tell myself to think of something else because I can’t stop remembering how good things were when we had them; even when they weren’t really that good. You thought I didn’t love you, because I liked someone else too. You’d come home and not speak, just eat, wine, and tv. What kind of growth or healing could we have like that, barely speaking, never seeking. You gave up on life, say what you want, but I saw it in your eyes, how could I love you, and be happy, when you didn’t love yourself? These questions I always ask myself, what else could I have done to help. I fed you, made sure you had a place to move, gave you enough money to pay for a semester or two of school, and I wasn’t the only one, your father helped you too, but you liked to leave out these details, it’s why I stopped trusting you. You burrowed in your mind, made it up on who I was to you. Forgetting all the sacrifices I made, and all the pain you’d brought me, you just said fuck me. You left me with debt, bills unpaid, collections screaming your name, money you owe me, yet you refuse to speak. What type of man are you? To love a woman the way that you do? Fill her head with all these promises, just to leave at the first sign of turbulence. I wonder all the time, what I did to deserve the pettiness and I realize for you, I stopped believing. My biggest sin is I no longer saw your potential, I didn’t see the man I thought you could be, I just saw a bum, looking for his next score. That’s still all I see, and it hurts, because you meant so much more to me. Even still I love you, although I try so hard not to.

Phase

out, fly back to when it started, zoom

in to that smile you had when your conversations

seemed to go on and had no end, remember the nights, where

you stayed up to look at each other, to touch, rewind,

it was a different time, everything slid from your tongues, now

bamboo under your nails can’t get you to talk, pincers pulling,

barely anything to grab, yet you try, you want to hear the

laughter again.

 

Morning Thoughts

People often have excuse after excuse for why their life is the way it is. Or like to say that they’re being a poor friend or family member because they have the proverbial “lot going on” (but honestly who doesn’t?). I’ve been blessed to have friends, framily (friends that are family), and family who acknowledge their own decisions and how they have consequences. Recently I have emotionally cut a few individuals from my life. One an ex-boyfriend, the other someone I considered framily, but soon learned that relationship was one sided. Both of them have a lot in common. This intense obsession to be concerned with what others think of them, while also sabotaging how people will think of them. Both refuse to acknowledge any of their mistakes and how those mistakes and decisions have placed them where they are in life. I look back at all the time I’ve invested in them, and I remind myself in all things there is a lesson. Mine, you can only help someone as much as they will allow. And when that help turns into enabling or a crutch, you HAVE to change the situation, either with boundaries, or removing yourself altogether. After spending years trying to cultivate these relationships, of trying to support, I let them go. To be honest the pain was terrible. More so for the friend than the ex, but still, it was hard. I cried for days, never getting angry, but just this overwhelming sadness that someone who claimed to love me could do certain things and then lie to my face about it. But the lessons I’ve taken away from the last, almost decade of “friendship” and the brief romantic flame, have been amazing. I can see some areas I definitely need to improve upon, and more than anything, I am grateful to learn that there are some deep running faults I need to heal and repair.

One thing I find that really makes me a good person, is that I am willing to see where I went wrong in a situation, and apologize for it. Not just apologize but try to see what behavior and thoughts led me to do the wrong thing so that I can work on it. I am self-reflective (have to shoutout my friendmate (friend + soulmate) Gian for that), and the growth I get from that has been astronomical compared to the pain I’ve felt from bad choices I’ve made. Even in these two relationships, I really sat down and analyzed all the things I did wrong, not them, but me. 

Why? 

Because my response, my thoughts, my actions, are the only thing in this world that I am responsible for. So even though the ex continues to be a thorn in my side, I try to rise above. I try to control the rage and absolute “slap a b****” in check; don’t get me wrong, it’s the most difficult thing in my life right now; barring health issues. But the struggle is worth it, my patience when this is over, working with the assumption I continue to be positive and act in a way I would be proud of, will be immaculate. So, remember, take responsibility for your part and portion, and do what you can to improve regardless of the situation or the actions of others. No one said it would be easy, but nothing worth having or doing is. The outcome is ALWAYS worth it when you do the right thing!

Might As Well

be alone. Because what is the point?

People swear they love you, but when

you’re down

and out

it’s only you, you can turn to. When

your back is against the wall, and you’re

looking for someone to break

your fall, just to realize they stole the grass

to help soften the blow.

Confused by the love people claim they feel,

when anytime there’s a problem, they can’t heel.

If you, gotta do it all on your own, you might as well

be all alone.

Why stress yourself with the problems of someone else,

when they’re one of the reasons, your life got mess?

How important are they, to suck your joy, and spit on

your hope, with no recourse?

Might as well be alone.

 

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