wake up call... my style
I pass the hallway and take off my coat,
look around and see him laying on the sofa,
still in his work clothes...I smile softly and decide to play my little game...
already slipping out of my baby blues...I tiptoe quietly across the room,
gently sitting on him, while he's still asleep...I start to move slowly against him as he opens his eyes, very, very surprised...I lean forward and kiss him with intensity...my long hair cascading down and tickling his face...he doesn't have to be asked twice...his hands already sliding against my bare thighs and wanting more...so, so much more.
Heal
They say I’m one of the happiest people they know, but they don’t know how I am alone. They can’t see the scars because they are hidden.
They can’t see my frustrations, or my anxieties shine through. They can’t see how many times I’ve cried myself to sleep, or stayed lying in bed awake, afraid to close my eyes.
My physical and mental disabilities are invisible to others. They are hidden and ignored, not, healed.
Ignoring the hurt won’t heal, all that does is proves tolerance. Acknowledging the scars and the fresh wounds is one thing, knowing how to deal with them, now that’s another.
Scars never truly heal, they are there to remind us of how hard we have worked to get to where we are now.
They Don’t Go Away
You found me, huddled in the filth behind a dumpster in an alley, sitting in my own blood, waiting to die. You wrapped my shivering form in a blanket, carried me to your car, and put me in the backseat. I sat there, unable to move, waiting for you to start screaming and yelling, following your words with blows.
It never came.
I remember you picking me up, carrying me into the huge building where even the scent of antiseptics couldn't mask the smell of death. I was placed on a stretcher, and you held my hand while nurses pushed me down various hallways.
You were there when I succumbed to the medication, and you were there when I surfaced, needles pricking my skin in a million places. You spoke so soft, it was hard to hear over the beeping and humming of machines.
"It'll be okay."
Except.
It wasn't.
Months slid away. I had surgery to put my jaw back where it belonged, a cast on my leg and one on my arm... Medication for pain, infections, parasites... A visit to the psychologist who didn't really understand what I'd been through.
You were there the entire time, promising, "You'll get better."
You only see the wounds inflicted on my body, my shell. These are the ones you treat, never dreaming that underneath this lacerated skin, my scars weave a tapestry of pain.
The tapestry that makes up the fiber of who I am.
You can hold me, rock me to sleep, smooth my hair back when I wake up from nightmares, you can give me medication. You can send me to the psychologist, you can give me a diary to write my feelings down in.
But in the end, the only thing that you can be is patient, and know that some scars are permament.
Done.
I began to cry for reasons I didn't understand about a week ago. A pencil would fall and tears would form. I would wake up with tear stains on my pillow, and go to bed and make new ones. I didn't know what was wrong, but I did. Everyone is wrong. Everyone is the problem.
I an a person who internalizes things. Anything that happens, I just swallow it down. If it hurt, it goes down. If it upset me, it goes down. If it angers me, it goes down. But, when you swallow too much, you begin to feel nauseated. The stuff you just took begins to bite back and you throw it all back up. For a long time I thought only food could do that, but emotions can too. Emotions that I just tried to ignore are now spewing out of me at the worst times and I hate it. I hate that I can't just put it all back down and now I am a sick wounded animal for predators to attack. I hate that I am so weak.
Others have weakened me. It stared a while back. Social media. Do I even have to tell the story? I made a comment, and someone else did too, and I was suddenly done. It's as if the mist that veiled me and made me think the people I saw were real suddenly dissipated in a moment, and while it has regained its physical shape, I know what I saw when it wasn't there. Eveyrone is a hypocrite, including me. Nothing has changed. Women can vote but are still inferior to men. Gay people can get married but can't have cake. People of color don't face brutal systemic and social discrimination but an air of it still suffocates us like the pollution someone lied and said was gone.
This isn't to repair anything. Others can fight. My hand has cramped so I have to pur my sword down. I can't keep this up, no matter how much society tells me I have to or nothing will get done. Even Martin Luther King took a nap. Call ne on WEdnesday, because I'm done for now. I have to fix myself before I can fix anyone else.
Rippling Sounds
Stillness captures my essence
alone, solitary in the sea of life
I don’t know where I’m going
nor do I care
as long as the peace surrounds me
wraps me in its embrace
baby waves lapping at my feet
lulling me into serenity
soothing me into forgetting
all my swells and whitecaps
helping me gaze
at the passage ahead
on the briny horizon
the soft sea colors
waiting for me
no emotional splashes
just rippling sounds
endless aqua expanse
promising me a home -
my happy place.
Heart Inside Out
Struggling to hearken to my heart
it’s been sent but never spent
listen to the far off glisten
wish to feel the swish
alas, I can’t locate my heart
it has parted, parted, parted
swirling mind is most unkind
I beg and beg and beg
to find the golden egg
bleed to rewind once more
to follow crimson trail
let lost love prevail
but I’ve lost it, lost it, lost it
tossed it, tossed it, tossed it
what has it cost, cost, cost?
can’t find my mind
my heart departs
missing, missing, missing
reminiscing about
my absent link
don’t know what to think
blink and tell me
where you hide
want to put
my heart inside.
A New Life
His eyes were cold and lifeless as he stared at me. “You have no idea who I am, do you?”
My heart raced, I wanted to hug him, I wanted to tell him that eventually I would remember us. I desperately wanted to press my coffee stained lips against his just to see if anything would come back, but I knew it would only hurt him. I knew that any physical affection would just be a false hope. I would never remember us. I wouldn’t cry over a relationship that had, in essence, never happened. So I did the one thing that could possibly save him. I shook my head, and let him go. I saw a single tear escape his eye as he turned from me, and walked down the street. I watched as he disappeared into the bustling city, a man I once knew, but would never remember. A sigh slipped from my mouth, it was time to start my new life.