Free Write · Personal · Poetry · Writing

Punk Rock Loyalty

Last night you slept in my bed.

I wrapped my arms around you just like old times.

These moments, I know, we can never return to, still I think you know.

We are the best and the worst for each other.

We indulge in one another’s insanities.


We go driving for hours,

playing one up on the stereo.

We loathe society.

We do not fit into the ideals of

anyone of anything….

But we had each other.

As beautiful and ugly as things could be.

Each extreme.


You tell me she enjoys nothing.

You sneer and call her your mommy.

I can see your confusion.


I pick up my guitar and you tell me,

We are Tim and Brody,

That I’ve always known,

I was the Bonnie and you were Clyde.

I called you my time bomb.


We know this.


It sits in the eyes of the beholden.

We are that destructive and menacing collective force.


The world will know us by our pain.

Our death will be our legacy. 

Creative Writing · Dark · Depression · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Pondering · Reflection · Writing

Men

**

These men

Speak as though they want me

They say

“I have prayed for lips

Such as yours

You speak on delicate petals

That I pinch between my fingertips”

With rosie nipples

Between their teeth

I have heard those whispered stories

In the dark

On various phases of moon

I have walked with the hands

Of betrayers

Wrapped between

Bloodied fingers

That dipped into your lying tongue

Penetrating

Inwardly

A wet

But sweet morsel

That I planted inside your soul

Long ago

While I stepped

Barefooted

Into rain puddles

Washing this mud away

I think of your children

Born too tired to stay

We keep looking

For stories

To sweep at our wounds

Something to remember me by

An amulet of Satan

Leans between my breasts

These men

They say they love me

Therefore

Angels could not know these bounds

As I fight glass bottles

To spritz upon you

Any amount

That would make you hate

Make you forget

This answer to your prayer

The memory softly fading

Dark spots on the mattress

Where I reached for your hands

This world was not made

For those

Like you and I

A sweet but harsh

Distance

Between the two faces

“You are everything I want”

I hear that sentence

Like a judge and jury

I wonder if it is shame

Or circumstance

I tell you

It is not coincidence

Free Write · Healing · Letter · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Reflection · Writing

Solstice 12/21/17 4:44

***

I am looking back at my life and realizing that many of the decisions I have made in my life have been because of Stewart; things I did for him because of how I felt about him, what I did in response to what he did and said to me, the actions I took in spite of him, whether positive, negative or somewhere in between.


What I am coming to terms with is that I am tired of doing things because of him. Even in his death I am in this rut. And it’s pissing me off to be quite frank.


***


Stewart, 


I know you know this on the other side. I know this is the nature of our relationship but I have to move on. I love you but I can’t keep stopping and restarting my life because of you.


I wish you were by my side. I wish we could have been. But we can’t. We are destructive to each other. We were passionate but not practical. Not everyone gets to have that sort of romance in life and I am thankful to have had it with you. It was always you. It will always be you but I have to keep going forward in life.


I agree, you were also the funnest part of my life. The funniest too and I will never know another soul such as yours. You know what you did, that you tortured me emotionally with your lies and betrayal but I understand that it was the sickness in your mind. Your heart was pure and that is the Stewart I will always love. I am working on forgiving you for the other parts but please give me time. 

Creative Writing · Dark · Death · Depression · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Pondering · Reflection · Relationships · Writing

The Other Woman

***

I.


You tried your best not to look at me.

That sneer, like you had a foul smell under your nose.

I recall that look even when first laying eyes on you,

as I walked you through quality training videos.


That snobbish look that you still carried on your face.


I asked him,”What do you do for fun?”


“Nothing. She doesn’t have fun.”


II.


We sat in a funeral home on a couch together. 

Her arms folded and avoiding my gaze like the plague.

I watched as she took notes.

No tears.


Your voice replays “So practical. Too practical.

So sensible it makes her insane.”


I asked, “What did she have that I didn’t?”


We were rounding the ramp onto I15. No cars in sight. A silence fell as you composed yourself. The strip mall lights shining on your face. I am looking at you out of the corner of my eye and through the rearview mirror.


“You are everything I want. We rock out and go on adventures. We get down together and have fun. We can just hang out and be for hours. We can be silly. She will never be that person.” You pause, “You are everything. It was always you… But she gets me emotionally.”


This is the part where you realize you cannot have your cake and eat it too.


III.


I tell people that we are complete opposites.

Tall and short.

Upper and lower class.

East side and West.

Practical versus passionate.


The duality of the man we loved as he also chose his women.


Our relationships; I had him in life. You had him in death.


IV.


I should thank you because I did not have the strength to see him through.


My body would have been next to his.


Tragic and untimely deaths of lovers that perhaps should have never existed.


V.


We sat in the room as I wailed loudly. Louder than anyone else. My face buried into Mama’s breast.

My Dad sits to my left.


I see your red blotchy face across the room from me.

Your restraint was moderately impressive. 

Tears had yet to fall on your face.


I walk across the room and stand in front of you.

You look up. I see you do not know what to do.

I think you were expecting me to hit you.


I reach out my hand and calmly state, “I am sorry for your loss.”


You break. Your sobs no longer controllable.

Your eyes look into mine with fear and guilt.


You reach back to me.

Your tears staining your bright red cheeks, “I am sorry for your loss.”


We shake.


This is the part where I wonder, is it harder to be the widow or the man’s mistake? 

Creative Writing · Dark · Death · Depression · Free Write · Melancholy · Personal · Poetry · Prose · Relationships · Writing

Stages of Grief: Fucking Anger

***

Stages of Grief: Fucking Anger


I miss Stewart and I don’t know what to think or feel.

I have trouble processing emotions and describing what I am really feeling.


Anger. 


I am angry that I have to deal with another terrible thing. Angry that he did this. Angry at the pain myself and the others that loved him must now feel.


Angry that he walked away from me. Humiliated me. Cheated on me. Then begged for my attention. Again. Begged for me back. Again. And when I finally decided no; that I wouldn’t play this hot and cold game anymore, I was angry that he would not leave me alone.


Angry that he wouldn’t respect my boundaries.

Angry that he left me to pick up broken pieces.

Angry that he put me in a place to be the decision maker all over.


I am fucking pissed at myself for wanting his love and attention so terribly that I made myself sick.

I hate that I gave everything I had and that he took it all just the same.


I am angry that I had to plead for his loyalty and I am full of rage that he would have the audacity to ask for me back after everything he put me through.


And I am fucking pissed because he was my best friend…. I miss his stupid face that I want to hit and also kiss and never let go of again.


And most of all, I hate that I can not help but love him.


I am angry that after all this bullshit I still love him the same. 

And I am mad that he could not see that.


I regret that we will never go for a drive again. And that I did not take up his offer to go walking in the rain earlier this year because more than anything, I wanted that. I wanted to drop my entire day to be with him again. I spent that afternoon imagining us as lovers, as we once were. I spent those hours weeping at the loss of what could never be.


That we will not go roaming under the stars looking for some meaning on this earth.


I am angry that he left me with these memories that I can never share with any other.


That I have these things inside of me that I can not explain in the way that would make sense to anyone but him. Someone I can be fully free and myself with. No judgement.


Not a care in the entire fucking universe.


No person but you.


I feel such terrible sorrow remembering your grief. That look of broken spirit and defeat sitting in your eyes. How you cried at sentimental moments in movies and songs. How you had heartache most of your life and that it would come out at the strangest, most inconvenient times. Like at 3 a.m. when I needed to be to work at 8.


I am filled with bitter and broken anguish because I am stuck with all of this for the rest of my life and all I truly desire is for you to be back —

Creative Writing · Dreams · Free Write · Melancholy · Poetry · Writing

More Dreams

***

Had another dream of being gunned down

Hiding behind children’s dresses with

Strangers

I haven’t seen for years


I am in the old neighborhood

Walking avenues by the graying churches

I keep searching for you

Down long hotel walkways

And the darkness of

Half lit streetlights causes another panic


Whats with the active shooter drills?

And why is there never a warning?


People think I am that other woman

I go back and nobody knows my name

Earlier that day

I was separating my life into grocery bags

One

Two

Three shirts

No maybe 10

What am I doing?


The is a glowing robot

Circling the churchyard

Collecting bugs as a vacuum should

My nephew chases after the glowing orb

But I can’t catch him fast enough


I can feel them biting my arms and shoulders

The little creatures collect on shirts


My great grandmother stands in the doorway

Directing me to eat more fruit

All I want is a yogurt and a little time


My room is torn about in the courtyard

I have no home

And I continue to lose the kitties

The leashes are not enough

I wrapped the doodles tightly but she

Slips through the leather restraints

And behind every door


There are cracks in the car

Windows closure

I can not grasp the

Straps tight enough


I am sleeping in various places

Once familiar

Each place now a mixture of memories fading

And contemporary reconstruction

Into a room that I can almost recall

I am walking the line of knowing

The bullets around me echoing

I only see backs leaving

Far into the distance

Creative Writing · Dark · Death · Depression · Free Write · Healing · I Miss You · Melancholy · Poetry · Relationships · Sadness · TW:Suicide · Writing

Aches and Pains

*

*

A part of me longs to be with you

Blowing off the side of the bridge into the wind

Our bodies wrapping around and through one another

Our souls intertwined for eternity

Nothing between us

No one to separate our love

I yearn for the little boy you were

And the man I fell in love with

I ache for my best friend

To be hand in hand with you again

I wasn’t there to see you go

But I know you are waiting for me

With each breathe

I feel you entering my lungs

Pumping my blood

Your life and your death have fueled me

And the fire burns deep within

The flames and the heat

Ignite the night

I sleep through the daylight

Waiting to meet you once more

Like we have done

In so many lifetimes before

Death · Depression · Free Write · I Miss You · Melancholy · Self-harm · TW:Suicide · Writing

The Last Day 

**

**

After I saw your body, I shook her hand and said, “I am sorry for your loss.” it was the first time that she had looked me in the eyes since we sat in that room together, speaking of urns and how your body could be legally burned.


I feared this day since the moment we met. I could feel that demon circling around you. A dark cloud over a soft heart, so broken.


I used to have nightmares of your death, as you slept next to me. I checked if you were still breathing. I looked for vomit near your mouth. I would stay awake all night holding you. To make sure you were alright.


My entire soul wanted to save you.  I remember  you begging me not to give up on you and I didn’t. I wouldn’t. I stuck by your side until I tried to hang myself 4 years later. I never told you that. I never let you know the things you did pushed me that far, but you saw the cuts on my leg and I think you knew. I think you knew what you did.


You walked away from me and to another woman. I thought “what can she do, that I couldn’t?”I thought you were running away to a better life and leaving me in the dark but I watched from afar as you got sicker. 


Turns out no person could save you.


The last time I saw you alive, you said “I made a mistake,” as tears rolled down both of our faces. I tucked you into your bed, put the covers nice and tight. Made sure you had water. I looked down on your face and kissed your forehead.  I prayed for you to get better. I looked to the sky for strength. I pleaded with the stars to keep you here because I knew I did not have that power; no one did and I could finally see that clearly.


I sat by you longer than I should have and more than anyone else. I loved your chaos, I loved your sweetness that you hid behind sarcasm and a ‘’don’t give a fuck attitude.” You were my dream. Forever haunting me.



I whispered in your ear, blood dried inside, “I love you. I always loved you. I am sorry. It’s okay now and I am not mad. I know you were suffering. Now you are not in pain.” I stroked the stubble on your face. Your skin still felt familiar even when cold and discolored. I have so many memories of those eyes looking down at me. Our lips meeting in the middle. I touched your chest one last time and said goodbye.