Tag Archives: relationship

Got a Match?

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There sat our gas lantern,

right in the middle of our table.

As we’re cloaked in the darkness,

you told me to turn it on.

I was fearful of my surroundings,

and my thoughts just weren’t working right.

I searched high and low 

for tools to help me,

as you stood there and watched.

–

Must’ve been over an hour

of driving myself insane.

I couldn’t provide us light,

and like a silent bullet 

came the guilt and shame.

As I said sorry,

you began to smile.

You reached down in your pocket

and then hesitated for a while.

–

I watched as you pulled out the matches,

like you were some sort of God.

You struck that match

and I burned right into the ground.

Maybe we were lucky,

fortunate for what you’d found?

Ironically, I didn’t even need that light,

because I was already six feet down.

–

You loved it,

you loved the high.

Thinking you were better,

while I was thinking why.

How dare you play with my mind

like it was a general store toy.

You showed your true colors.

Not a man, but a boy.

–

Enjoy your false sense of validations,

your twisted words and justifications.

I’ll come out stronger while you remain weak.

You may have been everything I wanted,

but you’re nothing that I need.

Holy

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_

Out of volleyball games

and you’re breathing heavy.

Our age isn’t like it used to be,

where we could run and do everything.

You’re sweaty and a mess,

and I haven’t got the kids to bed.

I’ve been working so hard and getting home so late.

I’m tired and I’m sore.

But that’s the last thing on my mind.

I want to be your…

_

Calves looking so tight.

Visible strength in those legs.

I holler at you 

during every baseball game.

When you’re helping teach our son

how to run the bases.

I’m just in awe

and want to touch faces.

Swing that bat my way,

I’m ready for a home run today.

_

I’m forever addicted to you.

Got no shame in my game,

I’ve only got eyes for you.

You bring me to my knees.

I can barely breathe.

This is inappropriate,

but we’re married,

so it’s holy, 

right?

Take me to the kitchen

and bend me over the counter tonight.

_

You could say I’m obsessed…

With the way he smells and his casual dress.

It’s not a fancy cologne,

baby it’s free,

that’s just his pheromones.

And I don’t care,

what they say about us.

You’re always on my mind 

and I can’t get

enough.

_

I’m forever addicted to you.

Got no shame in my game,

I’ve only got eyes for you.

You bring me to my knees.

I can barely breathe.

This is inappropriate,

but we’re married,

so 

it’s holy, 

right?

Take me to the kitchen

and bend me over the counter tonight.

_

I’ve seen you in a conference room.

Leading your team like the way I want to lead you.

You work tirelessly,

you put all that energy,

into your growing company,

and baby that’s alright.

I’ll take care of you tonight.

_

I’m forever addicted to you.

Got no shame in my game,

I’ve only got eyes for you.

You bring me to my knees.

I can barely breathe.

This is inappropriate,

but we’re married,

so 

it’s holy, 

right?

Take me to the kitchen

and bend me over the counter tonight.

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.

A Million Bees

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*To be interpreted as a song.

It happened all so quickly.

Chest to chest,

and our eyes on fire.

We lock in and

stare awhile.

My instinct is to breathe

inside you,

and set us ablaze.

Hand in hand,

I’m lost now.

I’ve forgotten how 

to exist.

The passion has swarmed 

me like a million bees,

and with each sting,

I’m set free.

We’re burning and we’re free.

How blissful of a state to be.

We’re burning and we’re free.

How blissful of a state to be.

It slowed down so quickly.

Time stood still,

and our grip grew tighter.

We lock in and

kiss awhile.

My instinct is to be

inside you,

and set us ablaze.

Lips to lips,

I’m lost now.

I’ve forgotten how 

to exist.

The passion has swarmed 

me like a million bees,

and with each sting,

I’m set free.

We’re buzzing and we’re free.

How blissful of a state to be.

We’re buzzing and we’re free.

How blissful of a state to be.

Heart to heart,

I’m lost now.

I’ve forgotten how 

to exist.

The passion has swarmed 

me like a million bees,

and with each sting,

I’m set free.

We’re burning and we’re free.

How blissful of a state to be.

We’re buzzing and we’re free.

How blissful of a state to be.

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.

The Gardener

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Many years ago,

I had a garden.

It was exquisite,

it was nurtured;

and it was vast.

I became a masterful gardener.

From the placement of the seed

to the trimming of their leaves,

I studied and learned how to properly tend.

Sunflowers, tulips, and orchids

lined a winding path.

To one’s surprise, 

they’d even find cacti, dahlias,

and roses,

all blended and alive.

I felt a sense of pride as I watched them grow, blossom, and even begin to die.

I knew they’d soon return,

the cycle would continue,

and there was simply not an end.

However, one day,

perhaps within minutes,

they all seemed to fall ill.

I did my best to help them,

to restore and see them rise once again.

That day never came.

All this time and beauty, wasted.

My vision went from a bright and beautiful color of hope

to a blackened blur of betrayal.

How? Why?

I left the garden, but still viewed it from my window.

The sun rose and fell, over and over again.

The moon provided an eerie silver glow upon the fields.

It appeared as a false shimmering gleam of hope,

of desire; of desperation.

I began to dread the night.

The ending of my day;

the battering reminder of what was

and what will never be.

I left my perch upon the window and drifted to the solace of another room.

One without a view.

I pondered what had happened,

many times.

A pest? A lack or oversupply of water?

Were my hands too tired?

Was my mind too empty?

Or had my heart shrunk a size too small?

I gave, and gave, and gave some more.

I did what I could.

I did my best.

I, I… I.

It was then I could pose the question…

Who tended to me?

It was I who stopped growing.

It was I who had been dying.

It was I who lost my way.

I thought I’d lost my garden,

but I had lost myself.

Slowly, I creep back to my window.

I give another look, or two.

I ask myself if I’m ready.

If I can bare the pain of growth and loss

yet again.

One day, when I feel whole,

I’ll plant a few seeds again.

One day, when the trust of reciprocation 

feels present,

I’ll tend to my garden.

More importantly, I’ll tend to the gardener. 

When

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when your heart is hurting,

do you scream in pain,

or do you cry in a whisper?

when your mind is racing,

do you grieve the sane,

or are sheltered in the twister?

when the burden is strong,

do you seek weakness,

or do you shine in resilience?

when the tears have fallen,

do you show meekness,

or pour them into your brilliance?

when the days feel darker,

do you look for light,

or find safety in the shadows?

when the nights feel longer,

do you gain new sight,

or are the demons now exposed? 

when balance starts to shift,

have you misplaced weight,

or was that with full intention?

when the truth is shown,

can you now accept,

or do you prefer omission?

when has become the choice.

when is where, what, and why.

when is the guttural voice,

and when will stay until you die.

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.

Sorry

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I’m sorry for the way you forgot your worth.

I’m sorry for all the pain I wouldn’t cure.

I’m sorry I always told you “it could be worse.”

And I’m sorry that you’ll never say these words.

_________

You had me walking on a tight rope.

And just when I learned to balance,

you cut it in half, with such purposeful malice.

You had me wear a tight rope.

And when I learned to breathe more and panic less,

you tied it tighter around my neck.

Either way, you wanted me to fall.

Fall, fall down to my death.

_________

I’m sorry for all the weight you gained.

I’m sorry that mentally wasn’t enough; I needed a physical change.

I’m sorry I felt you were beneath me, and chose to show you all the ways.

And I’m sorry you couldn’t say sorry, even on a good day.

_________

You had me driving a rigged car.

And when I learned how to stay on track,

you shut off my brakes and revved the gas.

You had me sitting in a rigged car.

And just when I started to appreciate the views,

you’d swerve and take them away too.

Either way, you wanted me to crash.

Crash; rid of me at last.

_________

I’m sorry for all the nights I left you to cry.

I’m sorry I chose to drink instead, and make you wonder why.

I’m sorry I deleted all the messages, and continued to lie.

And I’m sorry you’ll never feel sorry, no matter how hard you “try.”

_________

The cruelest part is that I’m free from you now,

but with every day that passes, I have to fight to heal.

You left me so damaged, and so broken,

that now I beg to question if a person’s kindness is real.

Had I known I was on death row,

I would’ve at least asked for a last meal.