What going on a ‘Break’ really means

The fights get worse and the screaming grows louder.

I’m crying in a matter of seconds with flailing arms.

You move away and sit opposite side of the couch from me.

There’s no love left at this point, just two egos battling to see who can win.

I suggest a break, hoping you’d fight for me.

You reply, ‘Yeah’ with no hesitation.

Minutes flash by quicker than blinking, and you’ve already packed up your things.

My heart’s crying silently, internally begging you to stop.

The door opens and you leave me behind.

I sit hugging my knees, soaking tears into my jeans.

After a mind numbing eternity, I wrap up my heart and hide it away,

knowing full well this break means the end.

The word ‘break’ was just a softer blow than ‘break up’.

Because you aren’t coming back.

 

Fast Love

I thought it was okay for us to act so juvenile.
I thought it’s what people starting out in relationships do.

Puppy love starts out great and giddy.
First and second dates turn from bashful to exciting.
Casual dating grows quickly to mutually exclusive.

If we were both chasing love and happiness,
then the goals were clear.
No matter how many differences, we’d get there somehow.
Because the sex was animal.
The lust was ravenous.

But alas, like oil and water. You can mix and mix and mix.
Go as fast at it and as hard at it you want in the beginning,
In a matter of a short while though, the two always separate.

Because fast love isn’t real.
They’re out as quickly as they came in.
Leaving you still pulling up a bra strap, when they’ve already called a cab.

 

Untitled Heartbreak

I cried a lot today
There’s pain I haven’t dealt with
Pain I’m unwilling to forget

but why?
Do I just like to feel hurt or is there a deeper root cause to why I always lack trust in others?

eyes hurt
heart shattered
and here I am lighting one up
standing alone in the dark
drenched in a cold loneliness where I feel safe

because no one can see my pain.
my defeat.

I’m embarrassed that I carry my head held high
yet deep inside, I’m just the same little girl.

Scared,
Defeated,

Shivering with self-hatred,
that the one who can’t love properly isn’t him, but me.

I was wrong about love

His lips tasted like salt water and freshly soaked wood on a rainy day. A combination that usually repulses me was like sweet nectar as I drank it in.

His hair smelled of faded cologne muddied with hair wax as he leaned over and placed his head on my right shoulder, prickling my skin with the stubble on his chin. A sensation that tickles and makes me uncomfortable felt familiar and warm.

When we kiss, it’s never as simple as a kiss. It’s twirling in euphoria and time standing still. It’s ignorance for everything around us except the moment we are frozen in.

He advances and I never pull away.

He tells me I’m beautiful, I don’t immediately think, “lie, lie, lie, lie….”

Am I blinded? Do I have my guard down? Or am I finally letting someone in?

I’m not sure if I’ve figured it out but I do know I was wrong.

I used to crave perfection. A paper perfect checklist of attributes and accomplishments. Instead, I found a man who was on a journey as much as I was. The type of man who’d walk 500 miles to fall down at your door. He sits on the floor with you when you’re drunk and crying at 11pm, 2am, & 4am even when he’s drunk himself. The perfect man doesn’t give you butterflies because he doesn’t exist. What does exist, is a man who will be your anchor as he lifts you up and tells you, you’re his Evangeline.

The heart, the mind, and the soul

Time passes and I’m completely unsure now at this point what I want.

The head convinces me I haven’t matured,

Girls just want to have fun

The heart yearns for a meaningful companionship.

It’s time to open yourself up 

The war between the two is at a standstill however eventually one stronghold should have bent to the other.

But, whom is deemed victorious?

The head proclaims out of silence, “Patience child. The time will come and enlightenment will arrive.”

Then the heart steps forward and pleads, “Dearest one, understand prospects will show but what if he’s been here the whole time? Why not give it a chance? How many prospects will pass by before you realize you’re now bewildered by options that only confound what is actually right?”

Soul eventually breaks the dichotomy.

It says it’s piece and vanishes back in search.

What the fuck are you holding out for?

 

 

Loving you is like opening a fridge door

I open the refrigerator door knowing there’s nothing good inside save for leftovers and uncooked groceries.

10 minutes go by and I find myself insatiable for something delicious. So I open the refrigerator door once more hoping there’s something worth eating yet knowing it’s the same as I left it the last time I opened it.

Being with you makes me feel like this damned fridge with nothing good inside. I’m hopeful that each time I open it, something will change, but nothing ever does. I can’t seem to learn and go back for more each time.

I tell myself it’s not worth it. I’ll just leave feeling frustrated and disappointed each time. But like an old habit, I’ll open that door again soon enough and see the emptiness of our relationship filled with rotten leftovers.

Destined to be the other woman

I was in the winter of my life, and the men I met along the road were my only summer.
At night I fell asleep with visions of myself, dancing and laughing and crying with them.
Three years down the line of being on an endless world tour, and my memories of them were the only things that sustained me, and my only real happy times.
I was a singer. Not a very popular one,
I once had dreams of becoming a beautiful poet, but upon an unfortunate series of events saw those dreams dashed and divided like a million stars in the night sky that I wished on over and over again, sparkling and broken.
But I didn’t really mind because I knew that it takes getting everything you ever wanted, and then losing it to know what true freedom is.
When the people I used to know found out what I had been doing, how I’d been living, they asked me “Why?”, but there’s no use in talking to people who have home.
They have no idea what it’s like to seek safety in other people, for home to be wherever you lay your head.
I was always an unusual girl.
My mother told me I had a chameleon soul, no moral compass pointing due north, no fixed personality; just an inner indecisiveness that was as wide and as wavering as the ocean…
And if I said I didn’t plan for it to turn out this way I’d be lying…
Because I was born to be the other woman.
Who belonged to no one, who belonged to everyone.
Who had nothing, who wanted everything, with a fire for every experience and an obsession for freedom that terrified me to the point that I couldn’t even talk about it, and pushed me to a nomadic point of madness that both dazzled and dizzied me.

Lana Del Rey.

Ride

What if I’m destined to be the other woman? It breaks me to even have to question this but for the longest time I’ve asked myself why. Why is it that I’m not with him? Picking up groceries holding hands, planning long lead vacations on a crisp Sunday morning, and even sitting down each night with the same person breaking bread? I don’t mean that I’m the other woman to a man who’s married or even in another relationship. I just mean that I’m not the woman he spends his life with. I’m the phase. I’m the adventure until he wants steady.

It’s like I’m fucking diseased with a big fat scarlet letter slapped across my forehead that I’m not perceived as someone good enough. Someone that’s priority. Someone that he sees valuable enough to dedicated a meaningful friendship. Aside from my name, does he even know how I like my coffee? Or which way I always turn to sleep?

I don’t belong to anyone which made me belong to everyone.

Drink after drink, mistake after mistake. I reflect on the patterns and see nothing’s ever right. Bad decisions follow me like the plague, and I ride each of those waves only for a momentary gratification. The high from an addiction, telling myself I’ll be good after this one last hit.

Morning comes and he’s still in my bed; sleeping away without a care in the universe. He wakes up, holds me for a minute and walks out the door with his things.

The text doesn’t come for a few weeks, but then one night when I think I’m back on my routine, my phone beeps and I’m back here again asking myself why.

The music’s gone, my love

The music’s gone but I still feel it all.

The fire’s out but the warmth I once felt still lingers.

These five years have been challenging. We’ve both grown apart in our own way. I fell into a two year relationship that sucked the life out of me, while you figured out what you truly wanted. Through the two years we were apart, you’ve learned to compromise in order to be happy and I’ve learned to let things be instead of beating a dead horse.

Seeing you again, being in your arms again feels so different now. I’m not in love with you the way I fooled myself into thinking I was. Now it feels safe and sacred. I feel protected by a friend who’s loved me once and made me feel secure. I’m proud that you’ve learned to be more of an honest man. You’re doing right by a much sharper moral compass and I’m doing right by chasing what sets me free.

Our song ended 2 years ago when timing redirected us into two separate wavelengths. I committed myself into a serious relationship while you finally got out of yours. Go figure. 

But I still feel it. The buzz and familiar tune of the rhythm while our bodies tango as you hold me now that we’re reunited. The electrifying touch from your fingers as you caress my arms and pull me into a tight squeeze. It still lingers and I still feel it pulsating through my skin. Like listening to an old favorite tune, each beat bringing me back to a moment from our chapter.

But we’re just friends now. My body remembers, but my heart has moved on.

Goodbye dear friend. Let this be our last dance as we venture into a new story with our lives.

My phone will still ring and I’ll still be excited to hear from you, but we both know, it’s time we let go. I think a part of me will always be in love with you because of our unwavering chemistry. Timing and life just always got in the way. So let’s hold each other one last time, listen to the hymns of my soul connecting with yours as we bid our farewell because if timing screws us more than twice, it’s just not meant to be.