Her Spirit

Her spirit knows there is something wrong before it is physically manifested.  She has anxious, looming thoughts and feelings about the future.  At night, her body curls up as she dreams of the depressing inevitable.  She awakes, shaking, feeling a tear slide down her cheek.  “No”, she begs.  “Please no…”

The days continue on, the same foreboding ache in her heart.  She tries to ignore it, ignore the signs.  But then. it’s too late.  It is physical, it is real, it has been verbalized into the world.  There is no going back.

Her spirit warned her, tried to protect her heart.  And yet, there was still hurt.  Instead of nightmares, her nights were filled with tears.  Crying until there was nothing left to cry about.  Food lost taste, the sun didn’t bring her joy, she stopped leaving the house.

Her spirit knew what was coming, but a warning didn’t help her broken heart.  Months would go by, full of sadness, loneliness and depressive thoughts.  But one day, her spirit reassured her, she would be whole again.  The hurt would be gone, her brokenness would be healed, and she could live & love once again.

 

If Only He Loved Me…

If he loves me, he will try.

If he loves me, he won’t yell.

If he loves me, he will communicate.

If he loves me, he will listen.

If he loves me, he won’t leave.

But –

If he does not, he will walk away.

 

If I love myself, I will not let his anger affect me.

I can not wait for change, when the waiting is what hurts.

It hurts,

aches,

stings my heart.

If only he loved me…

 

 

Maybe I am Worthy of Love

The breeze from the open car window grazed my face, blew my long hair back and seemed to clear my mind with its purity.  I closed my eyes, enjoying the softness of the air that brought freedom to my spirit.  The sun kissed my face, warming my skin and undoubtedly forcing my freckles to become darker.

And yet, my heart still ached.

Peace lasted but moments until my mind circled back to our relationship and its brutal ending.

I couldn’t stop thinking about it, so Momma kept dragging me out of the house after the break up, trying to cheer me up… Words can’t explain how thankful I am for her, but I wasn’t ready to cheer up.  Yes, it had already been a month after he left me, but it was normal to still be hurting- right?

Our relationship seemed so perfect to me, so completely full of joy and adventure!  But looking back it wasn’t as dreamy as I had imagined…  We honestly didn’t have a single thing in common.  Our conversations would lull to silence after having listened to him talk about cars for hours upon hours.  I didn’t know anything about cars!  Hell, I drove a ‘99 4 Runner and the check engine light was always on – but it worked, didn’t it?  What more was to be said?

We never talked about anything real, like our biggest fears and dreams.  We didn’t talk about God or the meaning of life or how the heck the earth came into creation.  We never did anything but makeout and drive around town.  How pathetic.

One day, he told me he wanted to marry me, that I was the girl of his dreams after just two months of dating!  Crazy, huh?

I thought he was it!  That I had met my person, but I was so wrong.  So naive, irrational and unrealistic! I thought we were in love, my eyes were blinded to the obvious – we were oh so wrong for eachother in almost every single way.

And yet, I was still hurting.

Was I heartbroken over Tristan or heart broken for myself?  Heart broken that my idea of a perfect relationship might not exist?  Heartbroken that I may endure hundreds of  nasty breakups until I find the one?  But who even knows if the man I’ve been looking to spend the rest of my days with is even out in the world!  What if I never find a man who wants to live life with me?  What if I am unlovable, undesired, unworthy?

I can’t go there.  That thought is completely unbearable.

“Abs?”  Momma’s voice freed me from my tiring thoughts.

“Hun, you have got to stop crying over him.  He isn’t worth all these tears.”  She gave me a worried look from behind the wheel.  Her hands gripped the steering wheel tighter, her knuckles turning white.

I touched my cheek, feeling the tears that fell from my eyes.  I hadn’t even realized I was crying.

“I know Momma, I’m sorry.”  I wiped the tears I had let fall one too many times. The car slowed as Momma took the exit onto Briargate boulevard.  I watched the sun waning in the sky, creeping lower in the sky to inevitably hide behind the mountains… But I didn’t want the sun to go down.  Nighttime always brought me more pain, more fear, more anxiety, more haunting dreams and thoughts…

“Where to first Abby?  Francesca’s or Sephora?”

Both good options,  “Let’s do Francesca’s first, that way I can find a matching lipstick at Sephora after if I buy a new outfit.”  I gave Momma a pathetic smile that she accepted warmly.

Therapy shopping.  Story of my life.  Whenever I am  too depressed to leave the house, my friends and family lure me out through the temptation of shopping.  I have no idea why, but spending money has always made me feel better.  Until the bills come in of course…

Buying a new dress, new makeup, a pair of earrings, new shoes – literally anything makes me feel better.  If I look good, I feel good.  And maybe my looks will help me find a new man someday who truly loves me.  Who is actually good for me.  If I am pretty enough, maybe, just maybe, I will be worthy of love.

 

Reality

Reality sucks,

I hate it…

But I know it is coming for me.

I am perfectly comfortable

Living in the romanticism in my mind,

The dreams of my heart

And hopes for the future.

But now,

Everything feels like it’s crumbling –

Down, down, down…

Into the depths of despair.

I am scared.

 

I am scared of the realities of heartache.

I am scared of what is to come.

I am scared of starting over.

I am scared to forget…

But even more so to remember.

To remember the feel of his lips,

Of his hands

Gently searching my body

 

I am scared of pain.

The stabbing,

Burning,

Aching agony of the heart,

When it breaks

Reality will come for me,

It will come for my heart.

I am not ready for reality –

 

 

Spiraling

Spiraling

Into madness.

My brain

So anomalistic

Idiosyncratic

Unparagoned

Encumbered.

It hurts

Oh how it hurts.

My thoughts

Cut through my mind

Sharp

Painful

Bloody…

I’m bleeding.

A cocaphony

In my brain.

Loud, confusing, caustic.

I’m spiraling

Down

Down

Deeper still.

Indelicate black tunnels

Pull me farther in.

I can’t see now.

I feel the ghosts

Of my past

Tug at me.

I’m pulling apart.

Spiraling into

Lurid dreams.

I’m not dreaming.

I’m failing.

I’m guilty, lost, crazed, unsure.

The spiral is long,

I’m still falling deeper,

Deeper still.

Talk to Me

Talk to me

Say something

One word

Just one

Please…

I need –

I need to know

Where you stand

With me.

Say something.

What do you feel,

What do you think,

What have I done wrong…

I want to explode

I want to rip my hair out

One by one.

These thoughts

They attack me

Like a swarm of bees

Like a hurricane

Like fire.

I’m burning

Slowly melting

into

Nothing.

My body shakes

With fear

Of what you’ll say.

But just say it.

My heart may shatter

My life may end

But I need to know.

Talk to me…

See Me

You don’t see me.

You see your expectations of me.

You see a version of me that you want,

Or expect me to be.

 

They say “She’s a whore”,

“She’s dumb”

“She’s a bitch”

“She’s selfish”…

You don’t see me.

 

I don’t fit into a box,

I’m hard to understand,

I’m uniquely me.

The world refuses to see me.

Refuses to even try to understand my heart

Because I don’t fit a “type”.

 

They force stereotypes onto me.

Bombard me with skewed perceptions,

Hideous expectations.

They make me believe the lies.

No one sees me.

 

It’s lonely,

Knowing that the world

Doesn’t want to see me.

People I thought were friends,

People I was in love with,

Never knew me.

They never tried.

 

I just want

Someone

To

See 

me… 

 

 

Death

Death.

The thing everyone fears.

The end.

The dark…

I’m not afraid.

I feel a connection

To the blackness.

This dark side of me

Has no fear.

I embrace it.

I embrace sin.

I’m connected to death.

Death is a part of me.

Every dark corner in the hollows of my mind

Resembles death.

Death is darkness.

Darkness is death.

Is fear.

I’m numb.

I carry the dark in my heart

Along with the light.

But the darkness invites me.

Soothes me…

The Wind

This short poem is inspired by fall.  Fall is full of new beginnings, full of freshness.  As all of us head back to school, it really is an amazing opportunity to change and work on ourselves.  Just like the seasons, people can change to – for the better.

 

I need this. I want this.
I’ve made mistakes, I’ve hurt others, hurt myself…
But I’m changing.
Just like the seasons.
Outside the green leaves age, become crisp and drift off of their branches.
The sweet, sweet air whispers a chill, and guides the leaves to their next destination.
He is my wind. He whispers to me, and guides me.
The season, fresh, has given me something.
Something so special.
The breeze brings with it a new beginning.
An end to some plants.
An end to old ways.
The chill of autumn warms my heart.
I feel renewed.
I am changed.
The Wind has granted me peace despite my transgressions.
The Wind gives new birth.
The Wind changes, rearranges, and perfects…

Anomaly

Weeks were slow, months were fast. Moments were quick, but memories won’t last.
Time goes on, I grow older. Finding myself, becoming colder.
Every thought is a key to my future, every step closer to who I am.
I walk down the street, eyes follow and taunt.
My style is different, temperament liberal.
Anomaly is my second name.
The capricious are uncertain, but have charisma.
There are no epitomes among the lurid streets, everyone unique to themselves.
The meticulous wall built to avoid scandalous slander stands, we guard our hearts.
Judgement feels like a backhand, freedom is only but a dreamland.
Do I care what they think, how they respond to who I want to be?
Anomaly is my second name.
I walk down the street, eyes follow and wonder.
My walls fall.
I do not conform, I am who I am.
No apologies for what is on my heart.
Every thought is a key to my future, every step closer to personal freedom.
Time goes on, I grow older. Finding myself, becoming bolder.
Weeks were slow, months were fast. Moments were quick, but memories won’t last.

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