The Now

I've been in a whirlwind the past couple of years and haven't gotten a chance to put things down here like I've wanted. Writing is such an outlet for me and putting it out into the void of cyberspace often helps me just let go of whatever is bothering me.
In the past year or so I have been working hard to foster a better relationship for my children with their Father's side of the family. It hits home that my Mother is gone and seeing as I have abandoned most of her family, I really feel like it is my duty to strengthen the bonds that my children have with their extended family. This is a truly taxing ordeal for me, because from the very beginning there has really been no love loss between them and I.
I don't think I know many women in my situation that would choose the same path as me. It's a hard road to follow and I think many single mothers choose the easier route and either hold a vendetta or search for vindication.
My kids' father is not the easiest person to deal with, let it be said. He's shiftless, a huge procrastinator and generally self serving. He is an avid liar with a healthy side of entitlement, and as if that isn't enough to drive you crazy he has an extremely smart mouth and no filter for the inappropriate. 
I've tolerated most of that and bit my tongue for the past year or so. I've suffered through his many phone calls to tell me his problems and often times him asking me to fix them or hoping I would offer. He's been through several relationships in the past year or so and floated from place to place. At the tail end of last year he was going on about the open relationship that he was in and how they were swingers - I warned him that it just didn't sound safe and he shrugged it off only to tell me a couple weeks later how the girl stabbed him. On one hand I feel bad, but at the same time it all just settles in my mind and I am reminded why he is not a suitable person to parent my children... and why it is so vital that I remain steadfast in suffrage by allowing him to visit the children at my residence where I know it's safe.
Short visits turn to longer visits and begin to include meals and allowing him to wash laundry... like it's my obligation to feed him or allow him amenities if I expect him to visit with the kids. Not surprising to me that he uses the kids as a vehicle to meet his means. My current boyfriend and I joke about how he is like our adopted child, though I know a lesser man would make my life a hell for allowing him to consistently wipe his feet on my doormat.
In the past year my oldest son has had 2 major surgeries. There has been ongoing complications with his neck and necrotic tissue. My heart breaks, he is eleven and children at school can be so cruel about the sizable scar on his neck. It's a lot for a child to overcome and it he cries sometimes about being different and just wanting to fit in and "belong". I hate having the talk with him and telling him that no matter how much he has or how "popular" he is that there will always be people to talk about him and always having something to criticize is much the way that most people are these days. I struggle to empower him and build a strong sense of self within his heart, but often times I am certain that my words are anything but a comfort to him and often fall on deaf ears.
My youngest child suffers from Autism and sensory disorder... and two days ago had to have his tonsils and adenoids removed. It's a fairly routine outpatient surgery, but to him it is very stressful and alarming. A huge deviation from his normal routine and accompanied by pain and limitations that make his anxiety go off the charts. 
Upon leaving the hospital to head home his father, without even asking me, asks my son if he wants him to stop over and see him and finalizes plans to see him in about an hour. I'm instantly annoyed. I mean don't even ask me if it is a good time (which I know it isn't). My son will be groggy and tired and really should spend the bulk of his time sleeping. When he arrives at the house nearly and hour and a half later, he comes through the door with two slurpies from the gas station, one for each child and I am thinking... seriously? nice thought, but there is no way that my youngest son, fresh from surgery is going to even put a dent in that drink... so I tell him that he might as well just put it in the freezer. 
My youngest son is sleeping, and his father is standing in the doorway coughing up a lung. I say to him that if he feels sick he shouldn't be here and even still coughing like that he should go back outside as not to wake my boy. He responds per usual with a smart ass comment followed by some name calling and my anger mounts, though I say nothing. My son ends up waking up and I get him settled with a new movie and his medicine. Within the half hour his father has fallen asleep on my sofa (unknown to me at the time) and I can hear my child calling to him, straining his voice to get his attention. I step into the room to find him asleep and I become instantly pissed. I mean if you are tired - GO HOME! You claim that you are here because of my kid, but then you are unavailable to him and SLEEPING! He gets up and stomps around the room like a child threatening to leave to get the kids upset and calling me names in front of them. I am asking him to step outside to talk and not to make a scene in front of the children and he continues to talk over me.
I finally get him to go outside and all hell breaks loose. I've had it. I tell him how I'm sick of him coming over here and using the kids as a vehicle to meet his means. How he has become my burden and it's not my job to raise a grown adult and provide for him. I'm tired of him eating my food, without asking and acting like my home is his, especially when he contributes nothing to it. How he shouldn't make plans with the children without asking me; especially ones that include and inconvenience to me. How he should visit when he can be alert and attentive to the children and quit acting like my home is his personal flop house. How he should fix his own damn problems and stop trying to rely on me... this of course was not received well and I was called everything but a migrant farm worker... small price to pay to have the truth out there, I suppose.
Everything I said went in one ear and out the next. When he came inside he was only there for a few minutes before he tells my 9 year old that he is going back outside to smoke and he will "probably be awhile" because he needs to "look for a part for his truck" - I could rip my hair out and I'm sure he don't understand why. YOU ARE SUPPOSED TO BE VISITING WITH YOUR SON... look for fucking parts on your own time!
I'm starting to think that it is fruitless to try because all it ever seems that I am doing in regards to his visitation is damage control with my children.

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. 

hoping it's enough, knowing it's not and praying like hell that it all works out

Life is hard, now I know, no one said it would be easy. I hear my child downstairs crying this morning and I ask him what is wrong. I know what is wrong. Stress has engulfed our lives and he's just a mixed up nine year old trying to sort through the wave of crap that has consumed us and I feel like a horrible Mother for not having the bandaid fix to make it all better instantly. I fight so hard to hide my hurt and despair for their sakes and I try to stay positive and have faith in the fact that doing good and putting good out there will yeild good results, but I am reminded quite often that no good deed goes unpunished.How do you look into your crying child's eyes, when all you have to offer is tired hurt eyes looking back at him telling him that you are doing the best that you can (hoping it's enough, knowing it's not and praying like hell that it all works out in the longrun).Divorce is hard. Even harder when your spouse was an abuser. Harder still when he makes it his mission to retain a hold on your life and make your situation as desperate as possible. I am fighting to flee the reach of his grasp and get back to a place where even if it is terrible to start over with nothing... at least it is a start. I am fighting to get back home, with no home even, just to put us in the center of friendly faces and leave behind the mountain of despair that he comfortably hangs over our shoulders.I try to look at things from his side, maybe I am a fool. I try to make some sense of the things that he is doing and the things that have transpired. I guess I think some how that if I can wrap my mind around it that I will be able to anticipate what is going to happen next... as you can imagine I am not having much luck anticipating the next blow. I feel much times like I am fighting a losing battle. I feel like a horrible Mother.. inadequate if you will and looking at their faces a million thoughts rush my mind about the up coming holidays and how empty and different they will be for us this year.I wish I could fast forward and see that it all turns out okay and hold that thought firmly in my mind. I wish that I could be stronger and that I had anyone that I could rely on to get us through.It's hard enough being a kid and how unfair it seems to me that they have to go through any of this. I have people (DV advocates) telling me that it is not my fault and I didn't ask for this, but I can't help feeling sometimes that I have no one to blame but myself. Poor choices have seemingly been my forte consistently over time. Equally as many people that are there to tell me wonderful things there are people  a plently that are none too hesitant to blame me for all of this. My husband's family, and my children's family on their father's side blame me totally. I should have never left ohio. I should have never gotten married. I should have suffered silently with our abuser and I wouldn't be in the mess I am in now. They are right, but then we might not be alive either and that's the hard cold reality of it. The life we are living now is no life.. well I can't really argue that logic; but I am trying to have hope.Words are powerful weapons. They stick with you. It's a kind of soul burn that is not so easliy healed. I've been a victim of words and unhealthy situations almost my entire life. I watched my Mother be abused and I always thought that was ending with me and I would not live the life my Mother had, but like her in so many ways I continually find myself in those shoes and with less grace I might add. I don't want that for my children. More than anything I want to take the necessary steps to prevent them from experiencing the hurt and disgrace that I know all to well. I want them to be empowered to find the happy healthy relationships that I have found myself searching for too many times and to be so strong in their conviction and values that they will never find themselves settling for anything less.I held my oldest son for about an hour this morning as he wept in my arms. Afraid to tell me that he was worried about losing things that mean something to him. Afraid to tell me that he's scared about facing the unknown. Frightened to share that change is something he is not comfortable with. He's 9 and shouldn't bear this burden, but he worries a lot like me. I had him at the doctor earlier this week as he was having troubles with his tummy and what it boils down to is stress. Stress is a monster illness, I know all to well as I watch my hair fall out in handfulls every day. There is no miracle cure for stress and worry. I guess it just has to run it's course. I try to comfort him, holding his hand in mine and stroking it gently offering comforting words in a calm tone and biting back tears as even I breathe the words to him that it is alright to cry. He feels alone. I can't help but feel like I am failing him. My shoulders feel weak and I want to break down too, but inside I feel like the only option I have is to try to be strong. I hear in the back of my mind my Mother's voice saying to me that if I am okay with it they will be okay and sometimes it's just better to fake it until you make it. Be strong ! So many people tell me that I am strong, but I am not really. I am good at putting on a smile face and trying to perpetuate a radiant happiness, i joke, i laugh; it all seems legit. but when I am alone - I break.I need help up. I feel largely like the last month or two has been spent resourcing as much as possible to try to find some sort of relief or aid from this circumstance. I was surprised to find that there are a wealth of organizations available to address the very issues that we are undergoing, but distressed to find that they are exhausted of funding in the county where I reside. More so than that that any orginization that  would potentially be able to provide aid here would only be able to be proactive about us staying here. New Jersey is a dead end street. The cost of living is extremely costly and I have no resources, family or even friends here. I'm told that a support system is extremely vital to rising like a phoenix from this incident and the only place I have that at all is in Ohio. I'm scared.I'm so scared I can't breathe sometimes.I just want everything to be okay. I'm doing everything I can and it doesn't even come close to feeling like enough. Go to a shelter in Ohio. Leave behind most of our memories and treasures. Risk losing  my children's pets. Begin again with nothing but each other. It sounds so simple - I assure you that it is not. I need a miracle...and i need it in less than a week. I need a hug, one of those squeeze you tight never let you go hugs... I barely remember having one it seems so long ago.I know I am not alone. I know I am not the only person that has been in an abusive relationship and lost everything trying to escape it. I am certain there are people that have had a worse go at it than I. Even as I sit here and write this in a feeble attempt to unburden my mind with the weight of these emotions I can hear the words that my husband's aunt wrote to me the day the police removed him from the home.. I am not supposed to tell anyone how I feel but rather keep it to myself, bearing my heart to people " is sick and a testament to your low self esteem and character! " I never responded to that and I probably never will as it would only incite her to further verbally bash me. It makes me not want to say anything to anyone and I find myself holding in more than I can hold. I don't want to be that person that everyone feels sorry for.. I just can't bear to hold in my hurt. Leaving is difficult under any circumstance. It's hard to love someone and have them hurt you. I changed so much and so rapidly that I barely even recognized myself when I looked in the mirror. I thought if I kept changing it would get better and be enough. People look into your life outwardly and they have a lot of "should have's" to offer you. You should have left when... you should have fought back... you should have never married him.. It's a good thing that I don't think about the should have's every day. What's that they say about hindsight being 20/20? Of course it is easy to look back now and see where there might have been a better option to prevent it from getting this out of hand. There are a ton of different things battling you when you are inside of that situation though... I felt frozen, powerless and worse obligation. I took the stuff that was dished out to me and set it aside arguing with myself that I was sacrificing my happiness for a better life for my children. I was so mixed up and confused in the wake of my Mother's passing that I can't even begin to rationalize how I made that be an okay thing in my mind. I wish someone could just open up my head and reprogram my head to think wiser.Sigh... back to packing.

My Breath, Your Lung

my breath, your lung 
My love,for thee 
is laden with a million perfumed kisses and drops of sunshine given perpetually to dew-dropped petals of the peril behind the very mist of your breath... I will adore you until death 
and through the depths of eternity seek out the raven earth dusted abyss that you've sunk yourself within or rather the world you value yourself beneath;
pity really
for me
I adore what you you abhor, detest, despise and I suffice yet and surmise and raise you on a pedestal high above all else
moreso than i value even myself
perhaps I am a glutton, greedily groping with scar soiled fingers of disdain to the sand of your soul slipping idly by through the groove of my grasp 
hoping to catch, coddle and keep within all that you seek to discard but I often hope you will give freely without inhibition, reserve or regard
you fit the curve that is me
the bend in the ribbon of eternity that shrouds the moment where we united and twined our souls like a tangled thicket of thistles flamed with the fire of a thousand nuclear missiles
and deep down it still sizzles when I sink into the molten pools of your eyes
and I exhale
if only to fill my lungs with your respiration and draw you into the depths of me 
so you can see; what it is I see and be filled wholly with the hope I clutch like a frightened child
Impaled on the hawthorne of your discontent, I flail and scream out I will repent though I know of no sin that I have committed greater than the love that I freely have given
and just when I reach my hand out and plead-there you are reaching also for me
and suddenly I cease to be and so do you cause we are we and no longer two
where once was you has melded and grew into something greater; more divine
forever transcending space and time
our destiny is looped in endless rhymes
wonderously weaving every instance of our existence into the fabric of our hearts
painting it with the blood of our struggles
adorning it with our tears
hemming it with our smiles and laughter
each sinew a second; in each day of the month of our years
seemingly infinite; and thus guarded and dear
you wished for me and I appeared
but with a whisper
it was gone and my eyes opened to the dawn.

Love

Everyone says that love is in the heart " my heart is full of love for you" " my heart is breaking" and although I agree that you can have an ache in your chest so profound that you feel as if life is surging or fleeting at that very moment I believe more so that love is a mental condition or state of mind.
Your brain is like a super computer of magnitudes that we will never fully comprehend. It is an untapped resource that if fully utilized could lift the veil of blindness that clouds our daily vision.

isotope separation

thanks for making me feel less
reminding me somehow that there's a need to distress
digressing into depressing delusions, driven to see past the illusions and diabolically demeaning definitions derived from your stereotypical conclusions about the outsides of a woman. 
you stole my ability to see beyond my imperfections, idolizing idiotic inconsequential portions of my identity only to secretly sequester the parts of me that fit the parts of you so profound and perfectly to their prolific perilous fate.. drowning beneath your disgust and disapproval, disguised in a devilish ruse to help you obtain and abuse the very treasures that trolled yet so well hidden inside of me.
you made me trust you and turn myself over, let go of my inhibitions when you didn't want to own them and leave me lay broken in the wake of your indifference and indecision
you slay me with precision
we are alike in many a measure, identical properties that perpetuate pleasure and pleasingly plot to unite us as one at least this is how the story begun. Brine-soaked bruise-filled ego dissipation derived from doting debauchery and dissertation of the inevitable isotopic separation of our kindred souls becoming soulless in selfish superficial isolation that you call a search for perfection
an atrociously perverse manifestation of malformed ideals defeating the droning desire to descend and devour the real and conquer the world as a whole and not lonely, you break and you own me and I am prey to your prowess, pity-filled and powerless to the searing sizzle of your smugness that smites the serendipitous sunshine that smiled once on my soul at the thought of you
and still I love you
for the you that i thought you were and know that you can be, bewildered i begrudge and start to smudge the line between the outside and the inside of me hoping to make them a blur and have you concur, I feel myself dying and I'll kill myself trying to produce the me that you'll be proud to parade around everywhere for the world to see... the perfect, pretty packaging that magnificently mirrors the truest reflection of the me on the inside... and completes your collection
you selfish self-centered ass

6-3-13

Pause.
Inhale deep.
It's all going to be okay.
How desperately I need to hear that sometimes. I feel like I have been drowning since my Mother died and all the subsequent things that have occurred since have only compounded my worry and beaten me down just that much more.
People say that you never realize how much someone means to you until they are gone - but I don't believe that. I knew how much she meant to me and sadly how emotionally dependent I was on her.
Can you measure life in kisses?
I think about how many times I kissed my Mother, or for that matter how many times she kissed me... I'm sad often that I can't recall more of them vividly.
I remember reading something once that told me that people used to believe that souls intermingled when people kissed one another, perhaps that was with lovers... I can't remember now but what a grand thought.
I think about all the kisses I have "wasted" and wonder how many more I have to give. Life is truly too short.
My youngest son talks about death a lot; he worries that I will leave him and he doesn't want me to go. To be so young and to have experienced so much loss it breaks me to the core. "I never want you to leave me Mama"... Oh baby, I never want to leave you either! I would love to look at him and tell him that I will grow very old and that I will be there for him for a very long time but no one really knows that and it's a lie I cannot bear to burden him with.
I know a lot about leaving.
It seems criminal to me at times to be alone. My minds swims with thought & worry about so many things and I need someone to share them with. My Mother was great at this...she Always knew just what to say and she was a good listener... I will probably never know that depth of love and compassion again in my life.
I get downtrodden because I believe that I am an inherently good person of moderate moral character and it ails me that I can't find that in someone else. Love. Acceptance. Tolerance. Patience... Okay I'll admit, I am not always the greatest with being patient, but I do try. I see these people that are so cut-throat and mean spirited dishing it out to people that are kind and I don't want to be the door mat... And I am sad for the people who are.
My intentions are always good. I think I am making the right choices and I have the best of intentions and somehow it ends up all screwed up and not at all how it was intended.
The last couple of years have been a whirlwind... Filled with loads of heartache and despair.... Honestly I am still waiting for the light at the end of the tunnel.
I'm sad that my good intentions and desire for a happy life for me & the children let me be so misguided. What's worse my Mother knew and maybe it killed her that I would not heed her warning. How foolish I was to listen to the lies and miss out on my last chance to hold her.
How small I feel with my children. How insignificant in this world you feel.. So isolated and alone. I swear when I was driving the other day that I heard her shout to me... I must be losing my mind.

It is he.

It is he

the other me that gazes with gluttony into the glare of glorious adoration that fills the hallows of my eyes for him and overflows in sighs shaped like searing tears at the thought of never belonging to him wholly and devoted, undying and resounding the ever-pounding waves of unbridled love my heart sings for him like a silly serendipitous child belting out a round at their first recital

I am the title of the book that shook and plans to steal the heart that hides beneath the him that is real. I am the pages of the song he won't sing but that he whispers sometimes when he drifts off to sleep. I am the words that burn the pages of his fury the space in between when he begins to worry and the glue that binds it all together, I am the weather the storm the tsunami of desire that rages and burns and builds on his fire, I breathe sulfur-steamed sedation into his kiss and inhale the breath that he's lungs freely give ; just to feel him become a part of me.

I am the sorrowful sea siren swooping, soaring and sinking surely beneath the shallow grave of his indifference and the whore of his fear. Pleading... plotting...and playfully pretending to recite morose prose in proper and procured fashion perpetual play-actors of passion parading proudly my hearts dissatisfaction at the painful protraction of the circle we call trust.

I am in love and he calls it lust.

It is he

and it can be no other, no under, no over... I fall face first in the clover and find myself sinking into the dew drop dream of he and I trapped in a rhyme that froths furiously foamy fantastical fermented fronds of fevered felicity. I glitter and I glide into the crystal blue tide like a red ribbon waved through the sky streaming for all to see this love upon my sleeve.

It is he

and he knows it. he refuses to see or has turned a blind eye, built a barrier a fortress and burrowed beneath, swallowed the sweet sugary soothing seduction my ears curiously crave to hear crooning from the cynical twist in the curve of his kiss and I am lost without it. Like a beaming bold beacon enslaving my reason his eyes tell the story of his heart and I start to fall, to fade, to fall prey to the him that his logic denies.

It is he

i cannot deny.. he fills all my sighs and sets me to soar ever high and I sink only to sift through the ashes of his hesitation hoping to breathe life into the soot covered phoenix of his tattered heart and restore, renew, revitalize and ever immortalize in a glistening glaze of ecstasy and bountiful bliss the boy-like love he once had to give and bathe in the beautiful borrowed memory-filled moments that fate bestows us; knowing no one is promised a morrow and sorrow only over the time that keeps ticking and clicking away fore I sense it's urgency an impatience, it's insolence if you will.

I'm just a girl

a girl that knows

It is he

Your Kryptonite

man of steel

you make me swill

and soar and swoon

so intoxicating

words

enticing

and invigorating

making me moist and warm

so deep in thought

with a swarm of emotion

tempting you

to take a swim in my ocean

let me fuel your passion

make your fires burn

be the object of your fantasies

teach me

I can learn

let me be

the whispers in your ear

the sweat upon your skin

let me push you away a little

just to pull you close again

i wanna make you weak

make you lose control

bewitch your mind

and make you mine

even if it takes some time

don't ask me why

don't tell me no

don't try to fight

I wanna be your

kryptonite