Im done trying to love you
Trying to smile when you leave
Searching for your warmth
In these tangled, tired sheets
I feel lost in the darkness
Of a never ending search.
I’m done with trying to find you
Someone good, honest, true
I’ve worked hard to get here
In the prime of my rebirth


I have this ex

That surfaces every year or so. Our relationship was like a fourth of July fireworks show. Intense, out of control …. everything. Then, nothing. Yet i still compare every man I meet to him. In the bedroom, across the dinner table, with my family. The ones who measure up, they get to come back. When I realize how much better they could be. When it hits me that their affection and attention is real. I start to get anxious.

A deer in the woods jumpy.

Of course this means he messaged me two days ago. My last response to him was, “I compare every man to you.” This morning he volleyed. “I’m sure I’m easily replaced” and “I’m sure you have enjoyed many amazing men and are well taken care of”. I refuse to allow myself any more communication. The first bit is easily ignored. A passive aggressive way of getting my attention. The second bit though, that digs at me.

Really digs.

Because for the first time in my entire life. I have zero romantic partners. Not a one. No one sending me sexy little texts or planning dates with me. It’s just me, waking up, going to work, coming home. Since the end of my last relationship the only thing that’s been pursued is getting me in bed. Part of my heart is ok with that. My life has been crushingly demanding. My friends were wonderfully supportive.

It’s still a bit lonely.

I feel a rainbow of things about it. Content,  frustrated, devalued, self assure. As with all things lately I’m not even sure why I’m here.

I have this ex

Promise of sin

His skin was so close to mine, yet a million miles away. We had been here before time and time again. The lingering taste of his salty cum on my tongue. The smell of our coming together in the air.

He rolled over and sat up slowly. Bulky muscles moving under his skin. Pulling his body from my bed he walked across the hall to the bathroom. I could see him there, his hand running through his hair. My legs splayed open and quickly cooled in the conditioned air. A broken sex toy pushed aside.

I curled into myself. Holding my arms tight across my chest, a strange burning icy pain grasping my heart. Fighting tears I buried my head in the stack of brightly colored pillows at the foot of my bed. Dozing off while hardly registering the sound of his slacks sliding back on. The faint metallic click of the belt buckle. The warmth of him leaving my room.

Keys. Wallet. Cell phone. Jacket.

Chain. Dead bolt. Door Handle. All unlocked.

A boot fall on the threshold. 

“I’ll pick you up at 8. Wear the red dress.”

I’ve been having the most vivd dreams

Promise of sin

It’s been a while

The List is sort of sitting, waiting for attention. Yet, I feel … reluctant for some reason.

I’m having issues and seemingly no one to discuss them with. My mom, she would have known what to say.

Issue number 1:

I’m trying very hard not feel jealous in regards to my sisters relationship with her boyfriend. It’s no where near perfect, and they often times make me uncomfortable with their antics. But they work. I guess.

Issue number 2:

I’m horribly lonely. Though I was aware kindness would drop off after so long, though I knew empathy and sympathy would end. Well, I guess I just need to understand that it’s really my life that has been affected. Not my friends.

Issue number 3:

It’s very true, what is said about having money and it not bringing happiness. Not that I’m rolling in millions. But I’m secure and that’s a new feeling. So new in fact, I’m still nervous to grocery shop and have to pay a bill in the same week. Then oddly over indulgent else where.

Issue number 4:

I miss the constant knowledge of knowing I could make a phone call and be soothed. It’s a terrible club to be in.

Issue number 5:

I am probably, for the first time in my life, READY for a relationship. No one wants me. People will have sex with me, sure. But wants me as a partner. No never that.

Issue number 6:

Old fear, like old jeans.

Issue number 7:

Last Saturday was the last night I will ever spend in my mom’s house. This Saturday will be the last time I ever walk inside of it. 20 years of feeling like I had a home. That will be gone.

It’s been a while

Prediction of fate

20 years ago: I was exposed to sexual things far to early. I don’t remember who or why, it comes in terrifying flashes of memory.

16 years ago when I didn’t get a call back from any modeling agency, it was my fault because: I didn’t stand up straight enough, my ass wasn’t firm enough, my hair was parted the wrong way, the light was missing in my eyes, I wasn’t thin enough for regular agencies and I was too thin for plus size.

10 years ago when my jaw was broken, my mom told me it was my fault. Because: I always said he would hit me, I provoked him, I should have stayed out of his way, “don’t ruin my family”, “you know how he is when he drinks”.

4 years ago when my marriage ended I was told: why didn’t you try harder, marriage is a two way street you gave up somewhere along the way, if you hadn’t gained weight maybe he would have been willing to give you a baby, you wouldn’t need fertility medication if only you believed in Jesus and went to church. I was homeless, disowned, carless, penniless.

3 years ago I told myself, I would have never been raped: if I didn’t drink, no one would believe me because of my lifestyle choices, there is no point in reporting it, I put myself in that dangerous situation.

2 years ago: I was duped, used, manipulated by a married man.

1 year ago I sold parts of my soul for money. I started a business and failed miserably. I fell in love with a con artist. I moved to a new city hoping for a fresh start.

6 weeks ago: I lost one of my best friends. She abandoned me countless times, blamed me for other people failing always. But, somewhere in there she gave me a key to surviving.

Tonight: I can’t sleep. Some times I swear I still hear the sound of heavy boots in the doorway. Keys slamming on the counter and whiskey at my neck. Other nights the bed is crowded with the memory of every person I tried to find myself in. I sleep on the floor. I’m disappointed and terrified of the future. I keep investing in people who don’t invest in me.

I’m trying to remember any worth. Trying to remember my value.
Trying to remember people are tired of hearing me complain.

Prediction of fate