Curtain Call

I denied it.

Denied the fact that you and I may have changed beyond even spiritual recognition.

Denied that you don't love me anymore.

Denied that you're not coming back.

I was angry-

Angry at you for being unwilling to forgive when I already have,

For transgressions more numerous and painful than you can calculate in your lifetime.

I forgave you.

I saw past so many imperfections to the hopeful and loving soul that lies beneath and now I'm angry.

I bargained.

I tried to be anything and everything-

Sex kitten, aloof, emotional, delusionally domestic, persistent, pushy, patient...

It never really mattered.

I cried.

I cried a river whose source lies in the wounds rendered so long ago that it seems like a different life,

And those tears wash over more than swollen cheeks as I hope and pray that I won't always feel like a failure,

And now...

Well.

I'm supposed to accept the loss.

I've been through four stages but can't get to the fifth

Because your eyes and your words give me lift until I crash until I burn until I yearn to be done with a spiral that's taking me

Further

and

further

and

further

down into a pit that I can't just crawl out of

And the poisonous allure of maybe one day possibly we'll see

Drinks me into a state of permanent heart inebriation.

My heart is an addict to the the ghost of who you once were,

But necromancy ain't my style-

So why am I digging up graves and rolling in sins long since past?

Put me down-

Let me go-

Before I find myself dead like me.

If only I could bring myself to regret what we had...

But that little girl decorated in curls and awe renders that an impossibility.

She is the best of me

And you bring out the worst.

I'm broken and scattered to the four corners of an ugly world.

This scavenger hunt of a search expedition is perdition in its most raw and frightening form.

I can't quit you until you quit too,

And quitting was never your style.

No, you beat that dead horse until its corpse began to rot and you forgot that you couldn't ride it anymore

And you're sore from barebacking the memories of dead dreams.

This is macabre at its finest-

Dressed in black and mourning that which cannot ever return-

Can we lay this to rest?

Must we relive the pain again and again and again?

Until our skin is replaced with scar tissue so thick that Buffalo Bill would pass us by while we begged for an end?

I want out I want in

I want

and want

and want

And no returns on this investment can be found.

Cash out-

Peace out-

Blow out the windows on this unholy cathedral.

I worship this evil lusty seduction of the senses no more,

And maybe one day we'll find redemption in the arms of another who is blinded to the sufferers of a cycle that we

won't

can't

break.

Coat Check for the Sinners

I'm no prodigy

No future politician nobel prize winning artistic genius of epic proportions, bringing war to the poor and peace to the war makers decorated with awards from my stunning military choreography of resource proportion and outsourcing and divorcing my ideals from my heart

No

I'll never be a wall street shark rolling dice with people's futures taking cash under the table for a bottle of Korbel to celebrate a killing of day that'll kill hundreds in a third world country only to sleep just fine at night

No

I'm not a fashionista dropping dubs on hubs for a car you can't afford to show off razor sharp stillettos that walk all over the dignity of sweat shop sweat and blood and tears, piercing through the gauzy cries of protesters who believe that human beings deserve to be treated as humans

No

Never a singer selling out her soul for less clothing and more shame and less talent but more sales and more regrets with less to hold onto at night than an autotuned autobiography of vapid devolution noise pollution and the broken image that so many little girls look up to while cursing their freckles in tarnished bathroom mirrors

No

But I am more powerful than your laws and your money and your empty words

I

am a woman

Wrought with curves and spirit and doubts and convictions

I

am a mother

This womb has brought forth a life, which is more than most can say, and those who can will tell you that that kind of life shines a light into the darkest corners of confusion and delusion and you bet your ass that girl means more than the world ever could to me

I

am a lover

That will knock you on your ass and have you coming back for more but only in the tones of the utmost reverence and respect and- well- flattery will get you- almost- everywhere

I

am a bitch

Who will not take your bullshit advances and admonishments and abberations sitting down- no, expect the bitch slap to embrace you in pearls of clusterbombs filled with rage like you've never known and never will again as I stand by my beliefs in a way that lets me look at my daughter with a firm sense of self-respect

I

am a friend

Who holds hands and secrets and dreams in the safest place possible, wants nothing more than to shielf your beautiful heart from the ugliest this world has to and will offer up, and will not back down when you cross those closest to me

I

am a force of nature

That you cannot comprehend, control, or conceive of

I

am scared

and confused

and hopeful

and loving

and trusting

and hurting

and fucking

and crying

and laughing

and living

and that is the fucking point

So

check your expectations at the door

They are not welcome here

I Wish I Meant It

This is my goodbye.

I want it to be dignified and graceful.

I'd like you to remember it as the moment where the woman you could have had simply said, “Enough.”

Walked away, and in her wake, you found a sense of loss

I want you to realize that I was the best thing to ever happen to you

To remember all the times I wrote your papers for you in college

Or the times I bailed you out with our debate coach

The times I cleaned up after you had a wild night

Or the times I gave you wild nights all our own

The times I bent over backwards to impress your mother, your friends-

you

Or the times I took care of you when you were sick

The time I gave birth to your daughter after carrying her for nine agonizing months while you played Xbox with people you never have and never will meet

Or the times I brought her to work and class, even when you had days off

The times I made our shitty rentals into homes with Goodwill shopping trips

Or the times I was there for you when no one else was

The times when I let myself slip away so that you could be happy

Or the times I isolated myself from my family and friends because I loved you that much

The times we used to talk about the rest of our lives together

Or the times I told you how much you meant to me

The times I begged you to care enough about me- and us- to show me

Or the times I cried when you wouldn't

The times I made excuses for the way you made me feel

Or the times I pretended not feel at all until I didn't

I want you to remember all of this

I want you to feel all of this

Because I sometimes wonder if you can feel at all anymore

You see, I can't

Neglect and maltreatment has rendered nerve endings numb

Except in your presence

And the prescribed cure is distance

So, goodbye.

This is my goodbye.

I wanted it to be dignified and graceful

But through a tear stained and bruised heart, I'm not sure how much grace I can muster.

Goodbye.

Haunted Houses

I was looking

Searching and excavating

The corners of a life not yet worth exploring

For a clue or hint or

Hell, a signpost would have been nice

Something to point me in the right direction

And in the process

I found a whole lot of twisted tunnels and dead end roads

Closets with skeletons alive and kicking

Tap tap tap dancing to a rhythm of regret

Cobweb etched emotions and sharpened blades of apathy

With coats of armor brazenly boasting a sense of distance and disdain

Dreams deferred or abandoned all together

Drinking straight vodka around an out of use Ouija board

The ghosts of memories waiting for their moment to speak

Speak to self-inflicted and propagated misery and seclusion

Masks and hats stacked perilously high in rooms filled to capacity with jaded ideals and convictions

A tribute to a dozen masquerade existences

Leered knowingly in my direction

Fifteen different wedding gowns

Laced with ennui and discontent

Floated eerily before my eyes

While portraits of lovers scorned scowled from heartbroken heights above

Tarnished tiaras of fairy tale lore littering the floor of an autobiographer's ending challenged ambitions

Diaries dotted and crossed with the precision of an expert actress

Writing a disillusioned screenplay for her post-mortem celebration

Filled bookcases that would never be read

The floorboards buckling with every tear soaked step

And lights flickering in a manner that would make Hitchcock proud

This haunted life closed in on me with the suffocating stench of if onlys, buts, and apologies.

I resurfaced from this nightmare without map in hand but

Any direction away from that terrifying spectacle would be good enough for me.