Free Write · Personal · Poetry · Relationships · Writing

Crazy things my ex used to say…

I think about the crazy shit you used to say to me.

Usually after days of binging, downing shot after shot of burning liquid followed by anything other thing you could find.


My home was half drunken bottles with missing labels.


At the kitchen table you would tell me “I’m not even real. I am your Tyler Durden.”

And I think in that moment it must be true.

I see myself narrating and watching this scene pan out from above.


Sometimes when I am alone in the dark I can not feel my body.

I am a separate piece.

Outside of myself.


They call it depersonalization but maybe I was in fact born in another space, in another time.

I watch this chaos while you sharpened the knife.


It’s hard to say what you did to me.

Forcing me to stay awake for hours at a time.

You wouldn’t let me close my eyes, with every light in the house turned on and you played me endless songs.


You say to me, “Make sure you play this at my funeral. You are in charge. I’m sure I’ll die before you.”


I knew right then you were not lying.

That’s the one thing I am sure of.


In that tiny house, in the apartment on the hill, we play songs in candlelight.

You tell me “I’m crazy.”

I know, I am too.


Still you were not convinced.


I played the organ in plastic magnified pants.

I let you do anything you wanted.

And you did.

Every time, I didn’t matter.


You tell me, “You are the best thing that ever happened to me.”

Then you would fuck me for hours,

into the quiet morning and until I was crying.


I see you looking down at me, each time you say, “I love you.”

It’s the image replaying when I want to forget.


When you threw me aside, I understood I was never enough.

I reached out to touch you and you would flinch and cower.


“Don’t touch me.”


“I love you but I’m not in love with you.”


I’m at a hospice and my grandfather is dying.

In the hot summer air and green pasture,

I smoke a cigarette with my mother.

I can not face this.

There is confusion but answers.


“I was never in love with her.”


Your smirk and 7 years of torture pass through my mind like a flash before my eyes.

The kind they say you have before you die…I know a piece of me did that night.

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