Now That It's Over - Tumblr Posts

No Poetry (Thursday 2137)

I wanted what we became, I ran headlong into it, I pursued it relentlessly with no regard for what the aftermath would be. I never considered that I would feel like damaged goods after, a worthless untrustworthy whore. I never thought I would have panic attacks every time I saw you, from all the words unsaid fighting to escape my mouth. I never once dreamed that my psyche would become a minefield of triggers that someone else would have to diffuse.

I never thought it would be over.

I know how you are flawed. I know your petty human side now, I know how you let me down over and over again. I know how you are not good for me, the ways you can never give me what I need. And I truly DO NOT want to go back. But I need closure. I am not going to heal without it, and by God you owe me this. For everything we were, and everything we never will be, YOU OWE this to me so I can finally let him in all the way.

God damn you, I thought I was done lying in bed crying over you, and yet here I am because you've crashed into my world once more, as always, with no regard to the damage you cause.

I need this to be over.

The Medicine of my People

I go to see my dad; I collapse on his chest ugly crying, harsh and jagged.

My father, he is not an emotional man. My father does the only thing he can think of-

he hands me a kitten.

Pieces

My younger son chatters next to me like a demented bird. He is eating pancakes, my hands smell like bleach.

I will go to work an hour early. I can sleep there, at my desk, where the silence is not nearly so loud.

Trigger Finger

Can we talk?

Please?

Rancid Heart

I've said "nights like this are hard" so many times that I've come to realize-

every night is hard.

It's all I know how to do.

“Numbing the pain for a while will make it worse when you finally feel it.”

— J.K. Rowling

FML

Oh God if only this dating app would stop suggesting my ex boyfriend.

Friday 1838

At first my eyes do not understand why the laughing man across the street has captivated them.

At first my eyes do not understand what is so engaging about the man leaving the club across the street (I am invisible sipping coffee behind glass).

At first my eyes do not understand, until my helpful brain chimes in, and he has already moved on.

Monday 2009

I need a break from the things that hurt, and it may be only for a little while or it may be longer; but you and I will always find our way back to one another no matter what happens.

I am the one who is always happy to see you, who never has to fake it, who always knows you can do more and wants to know how you will, but-

I am not the one you want those things from, and that is where our magnets flip their poles and the resistance begins.

I'm going to have dinner with someone soon, who is looking directly at me, instead of at a ghost standing over my shoulder; I'll fuck you out from under my skin if I have to.

You and I will always find our way back to one another, but I need a break from the hurt, at least for a little while.

Separation Anxiety

His body is lean and wiry under my hands our thrusts frantic with need heedless of the night air or the cars or the mountains or anything at all as we mate like frenzied animals or maybe teenagers in a darkened parking lot; I leave him gasping for air when we are done.

We know one another the way all people from small towns do, comparing graduating years and siblings and who has worked with who; a pleasant surprise in discovering a mutual desire, as these things go sometimes.

And in the morning I send you the hardest message of all.

Thursday 2204

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

You told me we would still be friends.

Friday 1946

"Tomorrow" we used to whisper

"Tomorrow" our mantra, our hold on a little longer till we can touch and melt and find release in one another, but

"Tomorrow" is different now, forbidden in a new way

"You don't destroy the things that are good for you" my friend said

"I do. It's what I'm good at"

Because "Tomorrow" is just another crack in the facade now, the acid bath I threw us into

"Tomorrow" is just business again.

Road Trippin'

I sleep beside him at the ocean side, we match well in the dark at least, even if it's a struggle by daylight. He is chameleon, and difficult to read, but oh so gentle when he touches my hip or strokes my hair.

I struggle to let go of work my kids the bills, I struggle to simply be and be in the moment with this stranger who already knows the flaws of my body.

I think quite likely I will never hear from him again once this trip has ended, I think it is a job interview that I am failing and I do not know quite what to say, when he watches from hooded eyes, and mocks so subtle that most miss it.

I come home. My legs are tired. My soul is grateful. My sex is satisfied.

And you have blocked my incoming messages, here we are we could not salvage it, you have decided there is nothing worth fighting for.

I will always be your friend, even if you are not mine.

Friday 1818

I dreamed someone smashed my camera, it's delicate and intricate parts fractured splintered shattered beyond repair as I prodded desperately to see what could be salvaged.

The metaphor is disgustingly easy to read.

No Rules

I try with everything I have to remain passionless against the words falling from your mouth, poison deadly belladonna words, words from a language we both speak, words that are safer somehow in their clinical distance.

And then I am holding you, our fingers interlaced, your lips on my neck, and we are human, merely mortals seeking comfort in the only way we know, we touch, we touch, we touch, because if we touch enough, somehow it will all be ok.

I prayed for you tonight. I don't know if my prayers mean much these days, but I'll grasp at anything.

I have to believe everything will be ok.

Monday 1932

You know, I can handle the thought of you not loving me anymore, when in really comes down to it. But it's the thought of you not needing me that tears me apart.

Wednesday 2155

I hurt myself today

Because she's with you right now

And it's the only way I can cope with it

Saturday 2158

I dreamed of you last night; that your wife died on Christmas day, and that I hovered around you like some sort of compassionate vulture.

I disgust myself.

Monday 2110

You play slow and I wonder if you are drinking tonight

If you have drank enough to kiss her the way you kissed me

If you have drank enough to tell me you love me one more time

Saturday 1523

I dreamed of you last night; interspersed with the nightmares, weaving in and out of different kinds of terror.

I dreamed of finding the messages I sent, all the things I've been holding back, all the things I think but never say, I dreamed of finding them sent in my sleep, oh beg your pardon for my slip of the finger but I can't take it back now.

I was secretly disappointed to realize it was only a dream.