whore of your love

why don't you just rip my heart out and eat it in front of me?
the silence
the loud, maddening silence
the pulse of my heart aching, holding as if to hold in it's breath
alone in the lonely death of your indifference and heart that conveniently forgets
reaching & pleading and groping at air
hidden emotions not showing, unfeeling and guarded leave me bathed in despair
i'd bathe you in kisses 
if you'd speak only the words
you mock me as with laughter somehow you find it absurd
hold it in and busy yourself
keep me at a distance and expect me to grow in the dark cold shadows and shade of the corner I'm forced within writhing in a fit of ache clutching this hallow gaping space that pulses still like a rotted sore tho it's core lay in your clutches and dripping in gooey gore-filled drops from the lips that curl in displeasure at my need
my greed
the gluttoney that I feel since raped by the whore of your love
I raise you above
yet still I find myself buried beneath

2-6-2014

It was difficult to hear your voice today. To know that you were sitting right there as your attorney spoke to me. I was grateful to have the anonymity that the telephone provides because seeing your face sends conflicting shockwaves through the very core of me. Emotion flooded my body and I choked back the tears, not wanting to give you the satisfaction of knowing that I hurt over all that has transpired though I know only a fool could think me cold enough to not be broken. There is so much hurt in my heart. I feel cynical and jaded to the point that I wonder if I will ever be able to trust again some times. No one fights for my best interest. I find myself in a position where I just want to be removed from the situation as expeditiously and painlessly as possible. Outwardly, I appear collected and together but inside I feel very defeated and broken in the wake of indifference. I loved you from the first moment that I knew you with an indescribable tether to you that I could never comprehend and yet from the very first moment that our souls intertwined I knew somehow that you didn’t have my best interests at heart and still I trudged on thinking that I could be the balm that mended your broken spirit and that would be enough to hold us together.

You told me once that you knew that you would never find someone to love you the way that I would and that was the reason that you held to me with such a tight grasp. It wasn’t enough for you to be loved. You chalked it up to immaturity and inexperience and came back to my life nearly two decades later claiming that you had evolved and all you wanted to do was love me and only me with your whole heart and make mine and my children’s lives better. You openly spoke of how you blamed yourself for many on the iniquities that had transpired in my life since our parting and with the deepest sincerity I absolved you from any guilt that you might feel. The past had a place in the past and the future was what I was looking to. It’s difficult however to ignore the signs when they are right before you and sadly it felt too late for me, having already married you, when I seen the rage monster within you re-emerge.

I hated you briefly. I hated that you wouldn’t let me grieve the death of my Mother. I hated that you expected me to act as if losing the one person in my life that loved me and accepted me just the way that I was at any one point in time was of no consequence because you were to be some sort of replacement. Only a week or so prior with stars in your eyes you had agreed to love me until the ends of the Earth with your whole heart no matter what the circumstance… and then here you were, angry at me for being withdrawn and sad and emotional over losing the very being that gave me life. Marriage was instantly something that you didn’t want or comprehend. You had all these ideals of how it would be and in many ways I feel that losing my Mother caused me to free you of all of them. I’m sorry for that. I truly wanted to be able to make you the happiest man on the planet and fill your day with my smiles and adoration much like you had dreamed, yet I simply wasn’t capable in the wake of my grief. Much the way that you had expectations, I had them as well. I needed you to comfort me and understand how I was feeling and set aside the desires and wants that you had to take a more compassionate, understanding role; and yet in many ways you simply just abandoned me. Your need to control me confused me so much. I changed so much in an attempt to please you that I barely even recognized myself over time. I wondered how you even fell in love with me when I was so very different to begin with than this person that you were making me into. It was as if you wanted to wipe away the 19 years of life that I had lived and get that naïve nineteen year old girl that you met in Pittsburgh back for a do over and I just didn’t know how to be her anymore. Life had changed me.  

I believed you when you said that life had changed you too. I hung on your every word much the way I always have and took everything that you said to me in the most literal term. I would happily forsake anyone who opposed our union and cautioned me to think to the past which I had seemingly placed large unsavory portions of from my mind so easily. I learned recently that behavior of forgetting is a coping mechanism and have taken many steps to journal my feelings from this forward point in an attempt to never forget again. In many ways you have been such a poison to my life. Loving you has brought such a brokenness to my soul. I have never really had regrets in life, I had always chalked them up to learning experiences. I thought that I had learned so much over the years but couldn't understand why I kept making the same mistakes. It must be something wrong with me that makes people treat me this way. I give too much, I give too little… I trust too much or not enough. I am 38 years old and I am just finding out through therapy that it isn’t me at all. I simply lack the ability to choose someone that is good for me.

Post-Traumatic Stress Disorder. I can agree with that. I had nodded in agreement when the therapist spoke to me and told her that I could easily see that, as the death of my Mother was something that altered me in a way that I couldn't describe and that I felt I was unable to move forward from. She then corrected me and said that she felt that my first traumatic experience was at age 1 when I witnessed my Father sitting on top of my Mother and beating her about the face and that I had subsequently re-traumatized myself dozens of times over since that very moment. She went on to explain that this forgetful coping mechanism that I have so seemingly perfected is something that I have been carting around since childhood, passing it off as this greatened ability to forgive those that had wronged me. I have formed in many ways this altered perception of events to push the events that are unbearable to me out of my head and life completely. I trick myself, almost into forgetting the events that broke me from you to begin with. (Unless you remind me) I guess that is why it came as such a shocking revelation to me when you were on top of me screaming in my face with your fist clenched above my face. Until that blinding moment I had forgotten that you even possessed the ability to cause me physical pain… I instantly remembered.

I sat there on the kitchen floor sobbing for hours, holding my children close and somehow realizing that the trauma that I experienced as a child was now officially passed on to them. It wasn’t the first time and it wouldn’t be the last. It’s no surprise to me that my children have no desire for me to be in a relationship with anyone. They speak to their therapist with fear that I will welcome someone to hurt me again and how they want to have weapons so that they can protect me from anyone that would want to harm me from this point on. I cry a lot to my therapist about what a failure I feel like for bringing this hurt into their lives. I can only hope that therapy will fix that for them and that the cycle will end here and not be something that follows them into adulthood.

I have spent countless hours evaluating the relationships that I was holding onto in my life. We are raised with a certain moral obligation to allow people into our lives that otherwise would hold no place there and simply do not belong. My Mother came from a large family that outwardly seems so tight knit and connected. Growing up, I was at no loss for frequent family gatherings and all the dramatics that follow.