When relationships end, I lose pieces of myself

Hack away at pieces of my heart

leave behind the entwined limbs of better times

cut off the hands I used to hold

They’ve all left pieces too

open wounds and blunt ends

I take a needle and thread to the blow-ups, the breakdowns, the back offs

putting together a patchwork of all the pieces that I keep

I kept the look in your eyes seeing me that first time

the love letter he wrote me before he was even called mine

I kept long walks and longer talks

midnights and magic

the feeling some people call sparks

I stitch together compliments and competition, whispered thoughts, a bold vision

I kept falling hard and loving slow

hands on my hips and road trips with no place to go

There’s a patchwork of memories that know the right thing to say

of a man who’s willing to play the long game

It’s bloody and real

passion and zeal

a bit of a mess

but damn,

He makes me feel.

was big as a house

with a head of State

and church to boot

with popular caboose

there was something

in the tresses louselike

plaid a dress kept up

in kerchief and bow

the union of the mess

with apron tongue tied in

matron might spanning

east and western blocks

of hood and suburb too

ah the stale breath of

cake crust and wedlock

in the nuts and bolts

of Frankenstein and

his whole world, fear

that beautiful bride,

till death do them part

instilling terror in the

the heart of mankind

09.22.2024

Frankenstein's Spouse challenge @AJAY9979

Looks have never been the main factor in me finding someone attractive. I struggle to judge if someone is good looking until I have a chance to talk with them. If I find them intelligent, funny, or kind, then it’s like a magic trick. Only then, will I notice their beauty. I am not saying this to sound deep or to avoid being misogynistic. I don’t pretend I am not shallow, or a bit of a pig. I can hurt someone just as much as they have hurt me.

I wish that weren’t true, but it is. So, to start with the shallow part, and show you I am not the person I wish I were, here are some attributes I tend to look for before I know a person:

Someone who is smaller than me is a big plus. Either in height or weight is good, so long as I feel like I can man-handle them. I am not a tall person. I have broad shoulders and a lifetime of abuse that makes me feel safer, when I can smother someone, and feels fantastic when I choose to use that for bear hugs, and cosying up or protecting them, instead. Like I said, I am not exactly a good person.

Red hair, hippy clothes and autumn hues are nice too.

Now, to think about my ex’s…

Most of my memories about major ex’s ebb and flow and don’t really take root. There are only a few thoughts that have truly cemented themselves in my mind. I would draw from these solid thoughts, to create the franken-bride.

I hate using labels, but they are better than using names for this, so…

Ex A: Her sharp wit, and goofy sense of humour. I never had to explain when I was joking to her. We had a thousand inside jokes, recurring jokes could laugh our way through holidays, awkward family dinners and even our breakup.

Ex B: She feigned timidity to make others feel comfortable. Only once to her own detriment. she put people at ease. When we met, I was boisterous, loud, and a much simpler mind. She used her intellect, and emotional intelligence to manipulate people, but not for bad, for the good of others. She brought the best out of a lot of scared people and built them up. She built me up too.

I betrayed that and hurt her. I sabotaged it because I didn’t think I deserved her, and I learned that I would never do that again, to someone so kind. This is a lesson that I wish I had learned without hurting her, but I will never do it again, to another person.

Ex C: She was passionate and full of ambition. If she saw something she wanted, she went hell for leather towards it. She built her own career, a brand, and an idea from nothing. Constant criticism and setbacks never slowed her down. She rolled with the punches and continued her pursuit. She was also passionate. The sex was intense. That is what I would take from her, for this strange experimental, and imaginary bride.

So, picture a mousy, red head. she curls into a burnt-orange cardigan, quietly giggling to herself, from a sofa somewhere off at the back of the crowd. She hides behind a book, but secretly watches the event, she helped organise. She smiles and her eyes swell as she see’s the people she believed in succeed. She would lock eyes with me, and I would be paralysed by the kind and fierce look.

Eventually, when my nerves would settle, I would leave. I am not a good guy. I certainly would not be good enough for her. I was fortunate to have experienced these things before. This perfect person deserves better than me.

From the curly blonde Australia

I'd keep the way you loved your brothers

The friendship you shared with them

Was heart warming and pure

As was your patience and respect

For someone so innocent

From the Canadian I met in Greece,

I'd keep that sense of adventure

That lust for travel, that hunger to live

To sleep in caves and on beaches

To savour the food on every table

To dance joyously in nightclubs

From my German ex in Berlin

I'd keep the picnics we had in your room

The olives, hummus, cheese

Spread on stretchy Turkish bread.

I'd keep your hot-breathed desire,

For it lit a fire in me

From the Queenslander in Sydney

I'd keep the excitement

That came from peeking into your world

Of eating in nice restaurants

And meeting your cool friends

Your cooked breakfast and crooked smile

From the one I thought was mine

I'd keep that razor sharp intelligence

That goofy, silly side that rarely came to play

I'd keep the love you had for your mother

And the love you had for cuddles

And the way you held my hand in the car

From the French sailor in Harlingen

I'd like to keep you still

Those lips, those eyes, that laugh

That fresh smell of soap

The picnics, the sailing, the bike rides

You coloured my summer

If my soulmate were to be a mixture of the aspects of all my exes, he would be tall, hazel-eyed, tan, curly-haired and slim. He would be proud and vain and harsh with my feelings. He would adore me in private and ignore me in public. He would call me stupid and fat on private chat and always try to belittle me. In all honesty, if my soulmate were like this, I wouldn't want one to begin with. It's better to be alone than to be in a constant state of pain and torture, stuck between loving them till your last breath and letting them go.

tall

younger but older all the same

ginger

bad hair day everyday

makes me feel confident

cares

questions

accepts