So. Hello. Blog.
I'm single. And it feels weird. But this isn't about how the breakup feels. We all have experienced that shit. I'm here to recall how the relationship felt.
My hands will not allow me to type the images that are swirling about in my head. I am trying to entertain you all with beautiful anecdotes on how great love is, or how I just loved when he held my hand, or how many I love you's spewed out our mouths like big bubbles from our chewing gum. But I can't think of anything. It feels as if someone took a beautiful canvas of a red beating heart, a heart engraved with his name of letters and spaces, the four names I was sure would be embossed in a wedding album or denting the inside of my wedding ring....and splotched and splatted it with murkiness. Browns and blacks and deep rich, velvety purples. And just destroyed every effort I made to keep my fate alive. I don't know what to do. I'm writing from the fingers but I have yet to realize how my heart truly feels so I'm ending up forming gibberish. I don't know where to turn and my eyes burn from trying to tear up but they won't because I'm trying to be strong but I want to show weakness for him. I want to run down the street in a see through shirt, breasts lively and jumping, yes. But symbolically showing that these mammary glands, this fat, this adipose tissue serves as a gate to shield me from the very thing that has hurt me. You have slipped through the cracks of cemented heart and you have infected me with your flu and now I reek of you. My body oozes you from my pores and I sweat you. You are the sugary taste in between my lips and that drop of flouride still glued to my teeth after this morning's brush. I lotion myself with your love and I moisturize with your lust and I glisten with your hate and I bathe into your desires, the same desire for me that grew so rapidly and passionately that I drowned. And I never really wanted to be rescued I rather commit suicide in your love than deal with the wiles of life, but I was given a lifeboat and a helping hand and although you swirled whirlpools around my legs and my torso and my neck, I was rescued and revived. I choked of you, I spurted you out with each push against my chest and then there was no more you left. And of course not knowing to do, I wanted to jump back in your magnificent waters and drift in your calming seas, but there was no more calm for the winds had picked up making you do more harm than good...and I was forced to leave my safe haven in your coves of love and as the lifeboat onto land I thought of the Titanic and how a simple iceberg made such a beautiful ship drown. It was the love it had for the seas, the powerful motor underneath the waters made love to the waves and arose bubbles as fish picked at them. It was the people who loved each other and played craps with one another and danced in its belly, danced in its belly, danced in its belly like guppy in sharks, not aware that they have been swallowed because they are still alive and swimming. Now knowing they were heading for doom because they were still alive and swimming. Not knowing that the bright lights cast shadows in the silhouette of doom. And they died happy and swimming. I lay rescued and lonely. I don't want to be rescued. I never wanted to be rescued. I just wanted what some people would call true love or the one or the soulmate, and I wanted him young so forever could really seem like forever. And we eventually form dementia when we're older and can't even remember each other's names or ages but we remember the love that was shared between us. That flame that never goes unless we put it out, and we never even wet our fingers because we loved how the light made each other's faces glow. But I glow no longer, I am still strong because the tears do not flow but my heart realizes it's sick and its needs healing and no rush from the bloodstream and no white blood cell can fix it. My infection is permanent. As long as my nose will be able to smell I will sniff you in the morning, noon, and night. I will bite you between my teeth and enjoy the sweet salty earth of your skin. But it won't be the same, your physical being is no longer entertwined with mine and your spiritual being has flown away. But your imaginative being, I create you with the lucky stars in my widened, non-tearing eyes. And we are together once more.
I'm single. And it feels weird. But this isn't about how the breakup feels. We all have experienced that shit. I'm here to recall how the relationship felt.
My hands will not allow me to type the images that are swirling about in my head. I am trying to entertain you all with beautiful anecdotes on how great love is, or how I just loved when he held my hand, or how many I love you's spewed out our mouths like big bubbles from our chewing gum. But I can't think of anything. It feels as if someone took a beautiful canvas of a red beating heart, a heart engraved with his name of letters and spaces, the four names I was sure would be embossed in a wedding album or denting the inside of my wedding ring....and splotched and splatted it with murkiness. Browns and blacks and deep rich, velvety purples. And just destroyed every effort I made to keep my fate alive. I don't know what to do. I'm writing from the fingers but I have yet to realize how my heart truly feels so I'm ending up forming gibberish. I don't know where to turn and my eyes burn from trying to tear up but they won't because I'm trying to be strong but I want to show weakness for him. I want to run down the street in a see through shirt, breasts lively and jumping, yes. But symbolically showing that these mammary glands, this fat, this adipose tissue serves as a gate to shield me from the very thing that has hurt me. You have slipped through the cracks of cemented heart and you have infected me with your flu and now I reek of you. My body oozes you from my pores and I sweat you. You are the sugary taste in between my lips and that drop of flouride still glued to my teeth after this morning's brush. I lotion myself with your love and I moisturize with your lust and I glisten with your hate and I bathe into your desires, the same desire for me that grew so rapidly and passionately that I drowned. And I never really wanted to be rescued I rather commit suicide in your love than deal with the wiles of life, but I was given a lifeboat and a helping hand and although you swirled whirlpools around my legs and my torso and my neck, I was rescued and revived. I choked of you, I spurted you out with each push against my chest and then there was no more you left. And of course not knowing to do, I wanted to jump back in your magnificent waters and drift in your calming seas, but there was no more calm for the winds had picked up making you do more harm than good...and I was forced to leave my safe haven in your coves of love and as the lifeboat onto land I thought of the Titanic and how a simple iceberg made such a beautiful ship drown. It was the love it had for the seas, the powerful motor underneath the waters made love to the waves and arose bubbles as fish picked at them. It was the people who loved each other and played craps with one another and danced in its belly, danced in its belly, danced in its belly like guppy in sharks, not aware that they have been swallowed because they are still alive and swimming. Now knowing they were heading for doom because they were still alive and swimming. Not knowing that the bright lights cast shadows in the silhouette of doom. And they died happy and swimming. I lay rescued and lonely. I don't want to be rescued. I never wanted to be rescued. I just wanted what some people would call true love or the one or the soulmate, and I wanted him young so forever could really seem like forever. And we eventually form dementia when we're older and can't even remember each other's names or ages but we remember the love that was shared between us. That flame that never goes unless we put it out, and we never even wet our fingers because we loved how the light made each other's faces glow. But I glow no longer, I am still strong because the tears do not flow but my heart realizes it's sick and its needs healing and no rush from the bloodstream and no white blood cell can fix it. My infection is permanent. As long as my nose will be able to smell I will sniff you in the morning, noon, and night. I will bite you between my teeth and enjoy the sweet salty earth of your skin. But it won't be the same, your physical being is no longer entertwined with mine and your spiritual being has flown away. But your imaginative being, I create you with the lucky stars in my widened, non-tearing eyes. And we are together once more.
(a little teary eyed)
ReplyDeleteawh charlei=]
ReplyDeleteii was. but i'm glad it's out ii feel bettuhr.