I wish that I could cut the pain out. Or at least open it up so it could breath. Allowing it to drip out. Would that rush give me back a bit of my self, the part I feel I have lost? Draining the tension trapped in the wrinkles of my brain. Or in the crevices of my black heart. Sometimes it spills out in words or salt. But mostly stays hidden under the best performance of my life.
I felt like you left my black heart for dead, the day you walked out the door. My heavy sobs almost propelling me to the ground. The way the sadness brushed me with a broad stroke. It had never kept me down for this long. I was able to wind myself up for work. For nights out with friends. That is until they asked of you and I choked back tears. The worst was walking home alone. The air cool and dry. The way the tears shook my body as I quickly tried to pull myself together. Messy, sad, confused. Or in bed at night. Loneliness so heavy that it rested squarely on my chest. I stayed safely tucked in on my side. I would reach over to yours, empty. The sheets feeling cool to the touch smelling of tide instead of you. Yet I wanted you back. Something’s return to you, even though they shouldn’t. I don’t want to let go, not quite yet. I know I need to but that is much harder said then done. "I love him, but only on my own".
My heart feels calm and warm tonight. I’m excited to have things back which had been taken from me. It’s as if I’m 16 all over again and with that my freedom has been reinstated. Quick exchanges and quick smiles give me the boost I need to maybe get back in the game. I’m getting ready to rally and put on some channel number 99. For now I focus on jb. Allowing myself to get lost in a Loreal moment, because I am worth it! I am exactly were I am supposed to be. Take out and long phone conversation. I am letting the worry drain away. I’m tucking it in for a nap as I can feel the lightness beginning to percolate. Oh how I’ve missed it. I can still hear the shards of my black heart rattle back and forth in my chest. The hurt is not so bad today and I thankfully embrace that for as long as I have it. Come What May…
It’s like a tsunami sometimes. So fast, quick and breathtaking. It consumes every inch of you. It ravages your framework which used to define who you are. I don’t like feeling lost or consumed, or angry. I wish I could be airbrushed perfection. The one who cares when dishes are dirty or when laundry piles up. Instead I focus on moments with friends, that point when their laughter becomes a cackle. I notice the tiny tears that seep into the crows feet around there eyes from laughter. The way the thick sweetness of peonies smells in the middle of July. Those are the things I notice, but they are not quiet good enough.
I have lost all track of time. It feels as if years and years have gone by since the last time I touched your skin. Yet it’s only been days. I wish the years and years would tumble over me. Truly and Quickly. Because the only thing that can heal wounds is time. I don’t want to feel this any-more. I want to be done. I want to think of you and not have my stomach drop. Or tears drip from eyes. Or to feel the shards of glass shake back and forth in my chest. I want to forget what I know and go back to what I thought I felt. Instead I sit alone waiting for the years and years to pass.
If my life was a movie and we could freeze frames parts I would be able to show you the first break. Even more so I would be able to show you the point when it shatters. If you could do an x-ray on my brain it would show the hurt markings. What does hurt look like? I only know how it feels. How it rips through my black heart. How it rests heavy and consistently. “How long will this love keep me down?” I wish my brain would be able to translate the lies it knows back to my black heart. It doesn’t quite understand and is dwelling in a world of regret. Caught in the loop. It longs for understanding and truth to make sense as to why it’s been so dramatically injured. There is no way to see what is truly genuine or what is still fake. Like a sparkling mirage that you can see but cannot touch.
I wish I could just be angry. Anger would be so much easier. Yet all I can think about is that last morning. I loved how every morning without fail you would kiss me just before you left for work. Sometimes on my cheek or my forehead or my nose or my lips. But always Soft and light as I was half awake and half dreaming. Each time producing a smile and a million goose bumps. That morning was like each one that came before it. All I keep wishing is that I had woken up and kissed you back. Long and hard. Fully awake and not dreaming. My lips to your lips. Drinking you in completely. I haven’t slept in days and wish for just a second I could have us back. So I could fall asleep on your chest. Breathing you in deep as you like no one else you could ease me into my dreams. Instead for now I embrace the saltiness as it streams over my cheeks and my lips attempting to heal what is broken.
Do you ever wish you could go to a travel agent to ask for a life quest? As if the travel agent is more of an oracle pointing you in the right direction. If you go on life quest A and travel to b, c, and d. You will find yourself. This quest in particular you will find what you have been searching for. I’m exhausted from looking. Where should I go? I need something to heal and repair. But most of all I need to find you.
I keep dreaming. I wish for windy roads lined with cherry trees. Cob houses filled with books and laughter. Ralph Lauren sheets and home-made quilts. Gardens spilling over with peonies and peas. Surf boards and bikes leaning against sheds. Stoves that bake banana bread and pizza. Back yards filled with barbecues and friends. Christmas trees dripping with white lights and gold ornaments. Most of all I dream of you. Lazy mornings with my head resting on your chest and your fingers tangled in my hair. On days were the sadness is thick. Where I hide the tears as I ride the train home alone in the rain. I imagine coming home to you. I miss you the most. Yet you are just like my dreams. Far away and intangible. How can you miss someone you have never met? I wait with breath that is baited. Waiting to exhale can hurt more then you could ever imagine. Yet I keep dreaming.
There are things bigger then Mercedes and red sole shoes. When your younger that’s the goal to strive for. The material and the noise is supposed to define you and your achievements. Yet as I creep to another year older i’m basking in what make’s me lucky. When things get tough. When I feel like an arrow being pulled back. What actually propels me forward is the warmth from conversation’s with my sister. The light that bubbles from my mother. The knowledge shared with my father. The kindness extended from my brother. The laughter exchanged with friends. The stories from my grandmothers. The memories of my grandfathers. The beauty when the sun is just about to dip behind the ocean. The hope in the unknown. Because in the end things don’t etch into your soul, humans do.
I was used to being alone. Sleeping, eating, t.v. watching, laundry, writing. Then it shifted. I wasn’t sure I was comfortable with always being together. Yet when the everyday was stretched out to every other day I suddenly ached for the everyday. Things were a little blurry today. My mind heavy. Old friendships that were not supposed to hurt stung my black heart. Yet I can tell you anything and your words are warm and understanding. It’s as if you have lived a thousand lives before me. Humans make mistakes, don’t let that ruin your perspective. I wish the same for you. Your scent is everywhere and nowhere all at the same time. It’s the little things that make the world less cloudy. Notes left on the counter. Bath products in a row. Freshly made beds. I look forward to tomorrow when i’m no longer writing home alone.