patchwork love
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.
Boogie Woman
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
Franken-bride
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.
Thank you, next
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
Soulmate?
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.