What I cannot say…

IMG_2630

I don’t know how many times the phrase ‘I’m struggling’ has scrolled my mind, those neon words bulletined across my temporal lobe; a state that never sleeps.

I cannot tell you.

I cannot tell you that I’m sick.

I cannot tell you that today I’ve run to the bathroom more times than I care to recall, the fear of my loosened bowels giving way to my anxieties.

I cannot tell you that I cannot sleep.

That I’m hesitant to close my eyes because I’ll struggle at chasing the peace that comes so easily to you.

I cannot tell you that loving you betrays who I am.

That every time that I’m forced to calm my flight instinct, I’ve chosen you over my own natural disposition.

I cannot tell you that I do not trust you, and that I never will.

I cannot tell you that I’m angry. I’m angry that you aren’t the man that you auctioned yourself off as. I’m angry that I placed my bid on a facade. I’m angry that I went ‘all in’ on your bluff.

And lastly, I’m terrified.

I’m terrified of your shadow. I’m terrified of the man that lingers past the mirage. I’m terrified at the monster that you are when no one is looking…but mostly, I’m terrified that I love you regardless.

Little Pig, Little Pig

The huff came silently.
 
Without discernment it blew down our partitions.
 
“We’ve stable walls” …I’d run my fingers along the plaster.
 
“Fortified”…I had thought.
 
It was a beautiful home, comforting and deceiving.
 
I once believed it to be impenetrable, but here I stand where it once stood.
 
I can’t remember its color or its shape now…
 
Did it have many windows?
 
I can’t remember its warmth; I can only remember how exposed it’d left me when it crumbled.
 
The absence bids me to my knees, and with trembling fingers, I begin again.
 
I’ve many unsuccessful attempts.
 
I cannot seem to build an impenetrable home with my fallible hands.
 
So instead…
 
I’ll take these dusted fingers,
 
Clasp them into a roof high above my head,
 
And posture until you come back.
 
You see, I’m still here…
 
I never let your malice in.
 
I will not crouch in ruin.
 
“Not by the hair on my chinny chin, chin!”

My Mother’s Daughter

I wonder what my mother would think of me if I told her.

I wonder if she’d look at me with eyes full of compassion or pity.

Perhaps she’d gaze at me knowingly as if to say “Ah, you too.”

You see, we aren’t so different, she and I…

Both in love with love, and both met unrequited.

I wonder if my mother’s ever played a whore in the shadows of her own life…

Has she ever preyed on men, conquest, and then afterward exhale with her climax, “Ahyou too.”

You see, we aren’t so different, she and I…

And you, you’re no different than the rest of those men that have broken our hearts.

Burrowed.

I miss the complexities of you.

When I reminisce on us, I think of you with furrowed brows.

That’s when I loved you the most…

Those moments when you’d shed your mouth of forced smiles and your eyes would deepen into liquid pools.

Oh how I wanted to jump into your depths and swim around in your unconstraint!

I wanted to saunter into the conclaves of your equilibrium, into your crooked places.

To wander into nooks devoid of light, your rooms unkempt and untouched.

My every fiber wanted to open locked doors.

To trespass.

I wanted to invade you.

My intrusion wasn’t easy.

I wasn’t easy.

I was unrelenting, and clumsy.

I knew I’d journeyed into what no one else had, the thrill of it!

Bumped against the raw, now exposed, sensitive to touch.

I tinkered with the bits that you’d confined to live in the darkness.

That’s where I found you.

And in those hallowed halls, I reverberated your walls with the echoes of my laughter.

Laid to Rest.

Repression is unhealthy they say, and so I’ll lie you to rest instead.

Today I will do away with you.

Today your breath will stop.

No longer will you quicken my heartbeat; no longer will your toxin pulse through.

Today will be the death of her, and you.

The man that wasn’t you,

I will kill you both in memory.

The last time I saw you, I let you destroy me.

This time it is you who will burn to ashes, to dust.

I will cremate you because I want to live,

And we three cannot coincide together.

Even now,

The flames are smoldering,

And this new love is arising,

a Phoenix.

Forever, shall you rest in peace.

Conversations, truth or fiction.

I hear the bathroom fan. It’s the first thing my mind gives focus to. This house is always so damn quiet, this neighborhood.

I’m tired.

Drained would be more accurate.

You’re sound asleep. It makes me envious.

The bathroom lies a few feet from us, but I still don’t get out of bed. Like usual, somewhere in our slumber, our bodies have become intertwined and it would be rude to wake you.

Rude? I think about the ridiculousness of my own thoughts. I anger myself, and with a shove I scrape your arm from my chest. You stir. I walk over to the bathroom, open the cabinet, take two pills from the row of orange containers and drink them down with the tap.

Your voice is hoarse, “Are you still mad?”

I feel much more naked in the daylight. “No.”

You sit half way up. You’re never embarrassed. Never shy. Why?

I snag one of your button ups from the closet and seal it around me.

“I don’t think we should go out drinking for a while.”

“Yeah, no shit.” I say a little harsher than I’d thought.

Your eyebrows rise. You realize I’m still upset, so you back pedal.

“What I mean is…until you’re…we’re healed of all of this…”

My lips curl into a scoff, “Healed? Do you really think that healed is a possibility?”

“I don’t know.” Fatigue colors you pale.

You’d run your fingers through your hair at this point if you weren’t bald, instead you rub the nape of your neck.

“This isn’t something you just heal from.” I state.

“It’s imbedded in my brain.” I rub my eyes; they’re rigid from the previous night’s mascara, smeared from crying. The memory of the two of you lingers beneath my lids.

“I know I’m-“

“Don’t say you’re sorry. You’ve said it a million times… The point is I know you’re sorry. I believe you, but that doesn’t change it. You can’t undo it. I can’t undo it. We can’t undo.”

A sweeping motion with my hand, “It’s done.”

Nook.

In drowsy thought,

Or midnight haze,

I’ve often thought of schemes and ways,

To keep you here,

To keep you here,

To keep you.

 

But when I wake,

The morning sun,

Stark alerts,

The day’s begun.

We have to go,

We have to go,

We have to.

 

Though I mourn,

I do not weep,

Fuck the world,

Let’s stay asleep.

Forsake it all,

Forsake it all,

Forsake it!

 

Lay back down upon my chest,

Until your lips caress my breast,

This heart is yours,

This heart is yours,

This heart.