You were with her on Valentine’s as I picked out my flower arrangement,
I settled on eucalyptus, fresh from the earth and tied with white ribbon. after all, you always said you were a simple man and I wanted to be your simple bride. While you were with her on your birthday, I found the place. A lush cliffside shrouded by greenery, and what I thought would be our coastal paradise brushing the rocks we would have been standing upon. It was so clear, the rings and "I do’s”, salt air and copious "I love you’s” I looked at white dresses the day I found out. They were silken and soft, some handmade and one I was offered to borrow. But you were too caught up in her. so caught up in her that you forgot to let me know it was over, forgot that we were friends, forgot that you loved me once, but you were never one to let me down gently. I mourned you in wine bottles, washed you down with one night stands, stood by your shitbox of a car, knife in hand, ready to slash your tires or carve “whore” into your windshield. but these facts aside, there were no tears this time. rage so strong it rattled my bones, maybe, but no tears. I was not heartbroken nor paralyzed by grief the way I was when you did this exact thing before. I knew you were sick of it, the all-knowing me and my prophetic dreams, begging you to see me and never letting you sleep. but still something broke in me when you said goodbye, the snap of the rose-colored glasses you placed on me five years ago, it was only then that I saw you for what you were and always will be. you’re just a man, and this is just what you do. lead me on, feed me love, then turn around and make me blue. I thought of your child that I carried for a month and how he would have been just like you, cunning and charming but so terribly cruel. I have nothing left of you now but these spells disguised as sweet sonnets that will surely send to you what you’ve had coming for too long. I won’t ask when it started or if you think it will end. but I do wonder, is she a breath of fresh air? does her kiss make you cry? would she kill for you? die for you? change her life for you? would she waste the best years of her life on you? I want to say I hope so, but it would be a blatant lie. no, I hope you drain the life from her eyes the way you did to all the women before her. the next time I see you I’ll see the pain in your glance, that little broken man that never deserved a chance, and you will look straight into the eyes of a woman you knew was too good for you. your love was not gentle and it was not kind, but rather a sweet fantasy fueled by jealously and rage. you’re probably with her as I write this, staring longingly into eyes that will never amount to the beauty of mine, making plans for a future that slipped out of my grip and fell right into hers. I may have wasted five years on you, but you will waste a lifetime without me. 3/6/2022 may I go now?when is an appropriate time to let you go?
I’ve been clinging to faded receipts and dried flowers like they’re the only thing tying me to you, but I’m starting to think this true. the letters are illegible, ink bleeding and bruised from tears that have long since fallen, but your words engraved themselves into my memory years ago. has fate gone out the window yet? the strange synchronicity seems to be lost on you, and however hopeful, I seem to be lost in you. I know you never asked but I have traveled 5,535 miles to be near you, waited 1,642 days to be the object of your affection, turned down a ring for you and still nothing. I have romanticized every part of you looked past every flaw wasted countless days waiting for you at the window and still nothing. have I done enough? may I leave you now? 2/28/2022 mourning periodmay I take a moment to mourn?
a silent grieving for a life I wanted so viciously, just not with you. heaven would have been rocking chair sunsets, sweet tea in the summer and tall grass by the water, a peach tree paradise shrouded by angel oaks. how inelegant it seems to have to bury it all. my victorian on the coast will be laid to rest in my memory, along with vows that never left the paper and a ring that never left the box. here lies the blueprints of a life that was never mine and a beautiful fantasy wrongfully promised to me. may the Atlantic fog lose it for good and roll in far enough to take the tears. 2/4/2022 homeafter everything,
the hurt the heartbreak the hardship, I would still come to you, heart-shaped eyes and rose-colored glasses and call it home 1/10/2022 daddy issuesunder the hood of a record player lies a photo of you.
young, tall, beautiful you. with long blonde hair you passed down to two and eyes just like mine, a deep greenish-blue. this woman in the mirror is never me but always you. I am 21 now and everything you hate, fragile, tattooed, and completely unafraid, but still a carbon-copy of the man who never stayed. you, you, infallible you. why you never cared to love me, I will never know, stuck with an inherited temper I’ll never fully outgrow and deep-rooted daddy issues that will forever be the star of my show. did you really have to go? I am 21 now and have so much to tell you. like I kept all the records and the letters and the books we traded so long ago. I want to tell you how my heart breaks when I see fathers with their daughters because I can’t remember the last time you treated me like I was yours and how I have to choke back tears when I pass a golf course because you never taught me how to play and how I still stop dead in my tracks at the sight of bald men with sour looks on their faces because I always hope its you but it never is. I remember my four year old hand wrapped around your finger. I am 21 now and all I have of you is the sting of your blood in my veins and a useless photo of you. young, tall, beautiful you. but I look at that guy and I feel nothing. 11/26/2021 caged birdyou knew my wingspan long before you loved me,
I am not the bird for your cage. 11/20/2021 Summer of blood moonsSo it ends,
my summer of blood moons. 180 days of measuring time in broken nails and phases of the moon. It’s a cruel case of Stockholm syndrome and a bittersweet heartbreak to leave the land I grew to love. I fell for the stillness of the sand in the night, the soft glow of moonbeams on damp foreheads, pale heat lingering though the sun was still asleep. I miss the silence of middle eastern nights, the comfort of quietness forever unmatched. a lunar child I became, taken in by constellations overhead, orion making his way across a dark sky. But every night must return to day and the scalding sun will always rise again. as she climbs the horizon i beg her to leave but prey she always stays. 10/21/2021 nosebleedall it took was a nosebleed to realize it wasn’t you running through my veins,
just blood. 10/11/2021 a prettier way of saying you suckyou told me once that flowers can’t grow in the presence of weeds.
there was a time when I swore our souls had sprouted from the same soil, I imagined our roots tangled and twisted and buried under some patch of cosmic land. I was bound for beauty, with pride in bursting hues of forget-me-not blue, and eyes wide like morning glories in June. I thought you’d be the same, with stubborn stems and a garden-like mind, but as you broke through the earth you were nothing but bittercress and knotweed. and with you gone I can grow. 10/5/2021 wishing you two the best!there's intrusion
in hating her, and mind-bending rage in not being her, but it’s a beautiful jealousy when I wonder how it feels to be loved by you. |
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