Claire

claire

I've met a lot of girls who weren't kind to themselves or others for whatever reason, I never tried to diagnose them  But there was one girl I got lost in her methodical behavior with seemingly no way out the worst of it is that I didn't want one This girl claimed me the night she kissed me while my wife was getting ready for bed and I didn't resist, I didn't want to. I knew from the beginning that she took what she wanted no matter the circumstances were. It was thrilling to be what she wanted to take and I was powerless to her allure from that night on. She made it clear that she would see me when she could I didn't mind carrying on at her convenience. She kept me close but made sure to keep a distance at the same time. She was training me so to speak and what made me a willing student I can't explain all these years later. Something about her made me desperate but she made it clear she was not interested in being anyone's anything. She never acknowledged our pseudo relationship as an affair. She made it clear she could take or leave me but I waited by the phone anyway. I was enamored with someone who wanted to make sure I knew I was expendable if she chose so but she always threw a rope to draw me in when she decided I would be the entertainment she wanted and to keep me wrapped up in her little games. I remember feeling grateful for time she gave me like a willing hostage uninterested in freedom. She knew how to keep me walking in the direction she chose was best for her and I never protested. When I finally told her how I felt about her she told me I was too much for her to handle and not worth any risks she'd have to take being together. She had no emotion in her voice and was very matter of fact. I had a moment of clarity and knew that my use for her had come to an end. I realized I was just something to pass the time.  I allowed myself to be what she wanted and lost sight of who I was before. I wasn't angry, I wasn't sad, but I was impressed to come to the understanding that I had been the victim of a narcissist. I drove away with all the dignity I could muster and began to think of where to begin forgiving myself for what I allowed myself to become. I realized I'd have to remember who I was before her and start there. She took what she could but the farther I got from her the more I realized she didn't take what made me who I was. I never spoke to her again.  Her words would do nothing but serve a purpose that benefitted her in one way or another. I'll forgive her for being sick but I won't forget losing myself in the sickness. When I stopped trying to make sense of everything was when I healed.  Holding onto the secret is the penance I pay but I will shoulder the burden so I never forget the hijacking of my being.

I cant sleep but

the birds aren’t singing yet.

I try and count the seconds between

cars passing on the road near my windowsill

17, 18, 19, 20..

I don’t feel reassured by the silence

because there’s so much noise in my head.

there’s a voice in my head that isn’t mine

taunting me

saying over and over again,

“he’s dead, he’s dead, he’s dead.”

I tried to wake my wife up

I told her,

my voice shaky,

my eyes filled with tears,

she said, “Casey, shit happens like this all the time. I’m trying to sleep.”

I felt nothing before,

now I feel less than nothing.

how many times can I allow my heart to be broken?

not just by others,

but by me as well?

I don’t recognize the person I have become.

It’s 3:30 in the morning.

I feel like a ghost.

I force the loneliness and despair out of me,

but it’s thick like tar.

I file this loss, this pain, this grief, with the other ones.

I don’t know how much more I can take.

there’s a secret door in my chest that leads to my heart where I keep the key.

I return it, close the door, and feel numb again

I wanted to cry for him

I wanted to cry for me

I really hope God knows how angry I am

How full of resentment I am.

everyone kept telling me that it would get better

I light a cigarette and wonder.

I wonder where 34 years went.

wasted, wasted, wasted.

I guess I spent too much time playing god

instead of praying to god but please,

I can’t handle much more.

no one should have to carry this much pain.

I will suffer but you have to trade me.

give me back some of the good memories

and I will shoulder the burden of loss.

let me be able to smile when I miss them.

I’ll do anything.

just let me remember.

She was(nt) mine

Everything I write about my girl is non-descript Lacking humanity Other writers have given more depth to phantoms. When did it happen, my muse? I am entirely sure she is no longer mine Nonetheless Do I miss her or do I miss my version of the truth of her? There is no truth of her. Do I miss the chaos we created? I create enough on my own. I'm fooling myself to think we created anything at all in our grand social experiment I can be sure I loved her, whoever she was. I'm sure I would have loved her, had I ever met her. We were a calendar floating on the last days of the year I can't say that this is sadness I have only decided three things: a. it hurt b. it mattered and because of this c. I am not the same

you didn’t deserve this poem

i never want to stop learning you  i hope i never get you down to a science  some days i am an engineer  i check your structure for flaws  and find none  i find myself marveling  at your architecture with my hands  tracing the curves   perfect, planned, and finite.  i did not make you what you are  you are a cathedral   built for me alone   to pray at.  i never knew god until  you touching me;  me touching you.  i am nearly fluent in you  i use words,  combinations of words  i form them  into sentences that i had never spoken  until i learned your correct diction.  the language of you quickly became  the language of us,  it is only you and i  with this particular dialect  our words put together   with effortless cohesion   form phrases so beautiful  i cannot tell if they are being   spoken or sang.  sometimes your love letters  are written in sheet music or maybe  thats how they seem to me.  everything about you reminds me  of a symphony.  it has been suggested to take my time  so i have.  loving you is not a four year degree  in fact  there is no definite end.or goal.  i am a life time student  at your discretion, my dear.  as long as i continue to learn,  i am yours.  today i learned   there are a minimum of 47 words  synonymous with love. i am positive i will need more  in order to continue loving you

— via jitterati

the ghost you left behind

Someone else sleeps On your side of the bed. Everything got worse Before it go better. Is it better? I'm not as strong As I used to be. I don't like crying When I do I'm afraid it will never stop I died with you I am no longer Your "us" "We" "Our" My wife loves me She looked at me And said without saying There is not enough room For the three of us.