Tag Archives: hopeful

Hero

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It’s something I always knew.

It’s something we all knew.

We didn’t want to address it.

We didn’t want to face it.

I didn’t want to face it.

The glances I’ll clock.

The sheep of stigma that’ll flock.

The throwing of their rocks.

The quirks they’ll mock.

The rabbit holes of horror…

they’ll simply never stop.

It was me.

It was me!

This whole time, it was me.

I’m no victim.

I’m the killer.

I’m never the substance,

only filler.

The narrative in my head

far surpasses the 

reality of the life I’ve led.

What a concept.

What a threat.

This expectation that I’m vile,

you’re telling me I’ve never met?

What’s more ill?

A diagnosis or

the suppression of my character?

I tell myself what others tell me.

Turns out, it’s only silence,

and those negativities?

Baby, that’s all me.

I’m fundamentally kind.

I’m a rare comedic find.

I’m empathetic and I’m loyal.

My compassion never foils.

I succeed, and I thrive.

I’m consistently praised and recognized.

I’ve been locked in darkness,

yet shine so bright.

My heart was chronically harnessed,

yet it unleashed to Mr. Right.

I’m capable and worthy of love.

An ideology I’d simply never heard of.

This guilt and shame?

For what?

Living in my own brain?

It’s out of my control

and I finally surrender.

I’m no lost cause,

and my life will be filled with splendor.

I may be the villain in someone’s story.

They may judge and fuel their own glory.

No punishment was greater served 

than the one I imposed on myself.

You’re welcome,

but now I’ve found help.

I deserve better and I am better.

I’m no hero to you.

That’s okay.

I’m a hero to myself,

in each and every way.

Landline

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How do you explain to someone that they’re your life line?

A physical cord, as if it were a landline.

I feel as if I don’t care about any other calls I may receive.

They can listen to a busy tone.

Sorry, not sorry, but I’m unavailable.

Codependency? I don’t believe so.

I talk to others all the time, mainly in person.

But his calls? Those intimate late night talks?

Those are the ones that fuel every bit of my broken soul.

It’s in the small details.

The intricate yellow spiral spanning a few feet long.

Nothing grand, nothing glamorous, but it’s sturdy, safe, and reliable.

Sturdy, safe, and reliable.

How sad that these were qualities in past relationships I had never seen, never heard of; simply never knew they existed.

This landline feels like the newest cellphone on the market to me.

It’s a discovery I wouldn’t sell for any amount in the world.

They can have their shiny toys,

ones they pay extra for, monthly,

just to repeatedly break and replace.

That’s their version of reliable.

A backup plan they continuously invest in.

I don’t pay extra.

I don’t think of the newest model, an “upgrade.”

I don’t purposefully destroy.

What I have…

What I have is timeless.

What I have isn’t as easy or convenient,

but damn, does it always work.

What I have is forever.

Each spiral pulls a little further,

expanding itself to reach whichever new rooms I may venture into.

What I have is perfection.

What I have is real.

The laying on your bed and

kicking your feet in the air, 

with your fuzzy pajamas on,

venting about the mundane, 

and gossiping about all things spicy and juicy.

It’s nostalgic, yet fresh.

It’s peace, yet chaotic.

It may require a little extra maintenance, but we willingly do the work.

We don’t pawn it off.

We don’t hang up the call.

This is what I hold the closest to my chest.

This phone hears every beat of my heart,

and I deliberately pause to pay attention…

to hear the percussion of love on the other end.

I’m in love.

Deep, burning, indescribable love.

Lucky me, 

I get to hear that baritone voice on the other end for the rest of my life.

The Waiting Room

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I had a dream the other day.

We were in a doctor’s office.

Perhaps it was a metaphor of a true check-up.

A storm was coming,

and the predictions were egregious. 

We chatted about our preparations,

and held small talk about how we were doing.

You haven’t crossed my mind in years.

Unless I’m drudging up mistakes of the past, or the love I’ve lost,

I simply don’t give you access to my mind.

You’ve already done enough damage,

and my rental has been finishing repairs.

I love the reconstruction, honestly.

I’m finally being booked at a higher price, 

the one I should’ve charged for you.

My love met me at the office and you shook his hand.

You watched us leave and I looked back.

I smiled, and could feel my hand grip his a little tighter.

The healing, the growth, the success, the unconditional love, and the value…

I have that. I did that.

Everything you once told me that I couldn’t be or couldn’t have…

here I am, and I have it all.

You’ve crept in the background, 

and don’t feel surprised,

because I saw you.

This dream granted you full visibility.

For once, we shared true transparency.

It was invigorating.

It was powerful.

After all this time, I’ve still held a small amount of pain and anger.

Not necessarily because I’m thinking of you; don’t let your ego get inflated, 

but rather the situations that involved you.

The trauma showed itself in the unexpected. 

Cruel, bent, rusty nails that just wouldn’t budge.

I finally got to tell you how I worked hard to be where I’m at today.

Incredibly hard.

I deserve this life, this love, and this healing.

I deserve to walk away with this smile.

I earned it.

I hope you’re in a similar place, truly.

I think that was the point of the dream.

I’m finally strong enough to wish you well.

Second Star

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Why do you come back to me?

There’s a clear lack of consistency.

I try with you, and I fail.

We make plans, but to no avail… 

You raise my hopes just to shut them down.

I tell myself it’ll happen… next time around.

Why do you come back to me?

There’s a clear lack of consistency.

I’ve given you the benefit of the doubt…

just to get caught in the drought.

Here I am, always waiting for the rain…

knowing I have it all to lose, and nothing to gain.

Missing you is never easy.

Wishing now that you’d free me…

Why do you come back to me?

There’s a clear lack of consistency.

I blame my own desperation.

I blame needing validation.

Leave it to my damned imagination…

I thought you were different,

refreshing, and significant.

But why wouldn’t I? 

You overflowed me with lies.

Telling me that we had a chance;

forgetting to mention that it’s in Neverland.

You’ll never grow up, my sweet Peter Pan.

Yet here I am, still wanting to take your hand.

Second star on the right;

I’d still get lost with you, on any night.

Even though it’s hard for me to face…

the harsh reality that is our fate:

you come back just to leave me…

perhaps that is consistency.