A Mind in Revolt

I wonder all the time...

If I ever say I want to come home, just know I’m asking to feel safe. If I ever come clean, and let you in…just know I’m feigning brave. You know I can do it all, but is it selfish to think I shouldn’t have to? I don’t need anyone to pave the road for me. I’ve got this on my own… but I’ve been doing this on my own for so long…I could use the company.  Sometimes, I wish you’d sneak up behind me, kiss my cheek, grab my hand, and ask to walk the rest of the way with me.  Honestly, I wouldn’t know what to say if you did…I’d probably cry.

Everything lays far in the horizon, with a million obstacles between there and now.  I feel so delusional in consisting of hope. Happy things just aren’t meant for me. Things like this, aren’t mine to see….I want it so bad…I hate that I see it so clearly.  

I can see us swaying…barefoot and dressed in white.  The priest leaving us, quietly moving towards the boardwalk. The ocean roars behind us, and the sun begins to set. I can see myself in a haze, lazily breathing in your scent.  My arms around your shoulders; happy. I can see you; your hands around my waist, teary eyed…and grateful. Your lips touch my ears in warm short caresses. You move your hands to hold my face, lace you fingers in my hair…I giggle…you nod…we kiss. Then it all fades out, us still swaying, like the buttered dandelions lining the background.

I thank heaven for the distraction that came in you. It’s almost like you wanted to be in my company. How can I tell you shouldn’t seek such things? I’m so stupid…so cold…so untrusting.  Then there’s you.  You’re so light…and innocent…and eager.  Crazy, but I can see you clearly.

I have a feeling you may think I’m too good for you, may be even a challenge? I’ll bite though; I’m a good judge of character, and baby guess what? I think you’re too good too. 

I gave you all the warnings.  I‘m not strong enough to move on yet. My spirit has been crushed so many times, I promise you it's likely all dust. That’s not enough for anyone.  It shouldn’t be enough for you.

I’m trying to stay away and do what’s best for you.  It’s funny really.  I’m your polar opposite...you’re a fucking angel…

All these men just left me in remnants.  Eyeroll to myself; I get it. I’m so fucking tired of being back here again. Trust me, I ran out of tape.  Sigh. That last one was brutal. There’s something so disgusting in my still wanting to be with him. Laugh with me, we’ll blame it on my daddy issues.  When you came in, you reminded me that he wasn’t it. You dulled that sting real quick.

When I smile I think of you now. You were the bestest Band-Aid I could have wished for; a hell of a welcomed relief. Can you imagine this working out? Even if it doesn’t….thanks for spending the time.

My love language has always been attention and affection….telling because growing up, I never had enough. I was the designated caretaker.  Then I became the support system. I don’t talk about it much because it’s really sad.  As a kid, I needed those things given to me, not taken from me. I spent my early life begging to be loved properly. I hope you never know what that feels like…It’s cruel.

You take me high when I'm feeling low, and you show me places I thought I’d never know. Even if it’s just us running around town getting stoned. Love that fact that it’s us alone. Damn.

Found my peace again, because you aren’t worth it anymore. I’m opting out. I think you know now, you fucked up with me.   So, it’s only appropriate that I stop seeking permission to be in your life.  As I retire myself, I bless you on your way back to what you know- that thing you “wanted” so bad.  That thing you continue to step out on. All this guilt and hurt that I’ve been carrying on your behalf, I’m handing it back.  You can let her have it, it’s only fair you use her for more.  I doubt you were you ever man enough to carry it yourself. I’ve come to understand why you belong; I understand why we don’t.  

In all of it, I can only be responsible for my intentions.  Thus, I can only confess what follows.  I think you know I would have given you all you were seeking. Now imagine the level of care, the level of intensity, and the level of mindfulness I was ready to deliver it with. Multiply it to your heart’s desire and know it’d only equate to a glimpse of my intentions.  Take all the gains you received in meeting me, and remember me.  I was genuine.

I know we talk constantly. I know every little thing you do. I even think I know you. Or I thought I did.  Something seems off…and honey, I tried. I really did. I couldn’t find you anymore…lately, I don’t recognize you…how can that be?

Do you mind if I pry? I think you want me to ask.  I don’t think anyone else has. Is that why you’re hurting? Correct me, sweetheart, tell me I missed something.  Tell me it’s something superficial that I can fix for you.  I’m scared this is permanent.

Did they hurt you? Did they steal something special? What is it, honey? You’re not well.

I can see what you did to your body, I saw how you cried.  How could you fall asleep in that closet? I saw how you clawed at the walls…baby, you looked so scared.  I’m still scared.

The way you picked yourself up, bobbed your head, and then giggled to greet company, scared me. You walked out with the cleanest of smiles, such a sad sight. The way you spoke softly, your voice in frequent quivers; they thought it normal. How dare they? 

Precisely now that you’re gone I've been told you've been cheating on me. Darling, if they’ve lied, I’m begging you defend yourself. I know you won't…because they tell the truth.  

Asked myself why you suddenly had so many enemies. Asked why I have to go on apologizing on your behalf. It's a shame we both know you'll always keep hurting me.  Darling, guilty or not, what can I do about it now?

I know I no longer have the right to reproach you for anything. How can I, if there’s nothing is left of you, of me, of yesterday. Isn’t this a shame? Our story could’ve been eternal.

I dreamt of all things home again; dreamt of you.  Dreamt of my friends; dreamt of my favorite places...and fuck it felt so good to come home. If I had died here last night, i promise you I would’ve spent all eternity haunting the pathway back. My ghost somewhat comforted in that maybe I’d find myself along the way; maybe I’d complete me that way…

I hate it here. This places makes me lie...and now I’ve lied to you baby. I know you know. You can always tell...not for long though. I’m getting better at it. I’ve lied a lot lately. I didn't want this. You just seemed so proud...and I’m eager to have this worth something.  I hate that I did this to us. I destroyed us.  Destroyed us fully…for this? Please, understand why I lie.

I cry a lot nowadays. There is no peace in my heart.  I don’t want to be here again.  I walk every day with the heaviest of hearts and the saddest of thoughts. I feel like I’m never enough, and when I think of you it’s verified. You deserve better.  Honestly, I know it’s over. For all that came out of this, zero of it was worth the cost.

You can see my shame peak on weekends. Without fail you’ll find me high lost in downtown.  Like a pro I chase textures to trace the lines of your face. I wish they didn’t come in nightclub walls and vials or bottles of alcohol…

Those mornings after are the worst.  They’ve become routine, nauseously familiar to me; reminiscent of putrid industrial air. What I wouldn’t give to forget...nothing helps me forget. Not even them. I’m always rude too. When I shout it’s only to have them leave my bed. I can’t help it. I hate them all. They fail at being you. Maybe it’s time to admit there’s no substitute. Even in our worst of times you were always consistent....and baby...I’d run across oceans to find us again. Why can’t it then be then, now? Even at my worst, you could always calm me…baby I knew.  The best you could…the best you did…I always knew you loved me. 

In not knowing its worth,you saw my porcelain heart and shook it.  You poked and prodded its secrets and examined every minute scar. You welcomed yourself into its chambers and placed yourself on the only pedestal reserved for anyone but you. 

In not knowing its worth you caressed my skin and covered it in sins. You crawled in with the heaviest of familiarity and painted the walls to your preference. Adding textures and shifting barricades, oblivious to the already strained foundation. 

In not knowing its worth you claimed my smile. Took aim at my lips.  Defiled them; forced them open with lies. Forgetting that permanent isn't always visible. 

In not knowing its worth. You took my trust.  Mistook it for sweetness and molded it to supplement your empty space. Unaware of all the forgiveness it took to materialize it. Crammed it into the voids created by your mistakes; destroyed it with your recklessness.....

In not knowing my worth, you took all that I had, and devalued me.  

Date 1

Two months ago I met you in a restaurant. The air was icy from the skating rink across the way. The music was a vibe complimentary to your composure.  You met me with a smile and a firm hello.  You were so genuine and I so reserved, with a skepticism towards you brewing near tangible.  You asked me the generic questions and we played ball for what seemed like an eternity. Then I asked your intentions, hoping while knowing…and dreading. Your answer was as expected. I replied lying saying “me too”; looking for the nearest exit, regretting having showed up.

Looking at us now, it’s almost silly to think you got to me, or got me, at all.  

As we exited the restaurant and climbed the escalator, I remember looking at your bottom and feeling myself smile. You’d made me a pervert! And it was well worth it.  When we grabbed coffee and sat, I noticed a shift in your demeanor. I think that was the first time I saw your confidence waver; it was the first time I knew you were into me too.   You must’ve put me in a trance by then because I can’t recall who kissed who. However, I do recall having butterflies and being impressed by what that mouf do. I don’t know why I thought you’d be bad at it. Turns out I’m the one who’s bad at it lol.

Date 2

I think date 2 was the first time we slept together? How funny.  It was fast, but I had the house to myself and I liked you enough to risk the mistake.  You came over in your little tennis outfit, smelling like soap and expensive cologne.   I led you into my dark room, with the array of candles, and music for background. I could tell you were nervous.  I was nervous too. I had taken an edible and some whiskey to make myself go through with it.  I think you knew though.  In the way you kissed me, and touched me, and treated me like a lady; you made me feel something again. I remember thinking your girlfriend was lucky.

Date 3