Mine

Waves of pain push through my chest, 

tears stain, and warm my cheeks.

Holding every breath, 

Clenched jaw.

Breath normal? 

I get dizzy, mouth dry.

Stomach aches.

Lick my lips, sip another drink.

Whatever it takes, fall asleep.

I'll quit the moment you're gone.

The moment you stop talking...

about a future we no longer have...

about how upside down our kids lives are...

The moment I acknowledge my instinct...

that love blinded...

The moment I stop hating you...

for breaking our hearts....

because you never knew yours.

Because I never knew mine...

The moment I realize there is no hate.

Just a lot of hurt.

Spread around.

Right now we're swimming in it.

Understanding betrayal is one thing,

Living in it is another.

I can only hope you'll stop betraying yourself.

For her sake...

For his.

For you...

Don't worry about me.

I'm still here...

Just different.

Not yours...

Mine.

Dandelion spirits

A three foot dandelion rests under her staircase, fashioned from jewelry, trinkets, bits and pieces of wedding dress, glued and painted onto an old piece of plywood. It'll remain there until she finds the right words to describe her dandelion soul.

All the dreams of past, scattered in a single breath...seeds for growth lay in the path ahead.

She pretended not to notice the tattered fabric on their living room floor, instead stuffing it down into the depths of a thirsty mind. 

Waiting for sunlight to ease a buried soul.

Day by day she grew, reaching up towards the sky, blossoming into a vibrant new creature, marveling at the ability to transplant herself from a seed in the wind, to a lovely spring flower. Over time she turned inward, hoping nobody would notice the absence of her yellow petals. Twisted up in isolation night fell upon her, and suddenly an explosion of power crept up her spine, unveiling more seeds for growth, because the life of a dandelion never slows. 

She transforms, over and over again, in a million different ways, across a thousand different lands. Impossible to predict, she goes with the wind. With the breath of a small child.

To a shoreline, towards the sunset, or an urban city street. She'll find beauty wherever she lands, and she'll make a home there. Until the winds of change carry her away, like they've done a hundred times before.

http://youtu.be/Q6jSaVTUzGU

Ghost

Before I write, I rest my hands on the keypad. A heartbeat vibrates through pulse of blood rushing to my fingertips.

To remember how solid I am, real. 

Unbelievable, lately I'm a ghost.

A part of me has died. 

I notice her absence like an orchestra misses a conductor. 

Shock, anger, grief.

A natural response to change, maybe. 

We pass by in the hallway, indifference aches. I watch friends gather, yet don't belong.

Solitude has invaded my life.

Searching for a connection I thought I'd always have. 

Until he let go. 

Stopped walking. 

My path was not his, nor his mine.

I belong to no one.

I've debated taking that out, but the truth is I can't sleep at night, and hiding that truth seems wrong. 

Why pretend everything's alright unless it's to calm a child? Even then children are perceptive. It's only a matter of time.

Can I hate him for lack of growth? 

Can he control rapid expansion?

Attempting to stop it is like trying to cap an atomic bomb. 

So we wander, drive aimlessly, scribble in note books, cry in the shower. 

 

There's not much I haven't tried to fall back to sleep, but I'm awake. 

I'd felt it coming, the change, my metamorphosis. 

When a caterpillar turns into a butterfly, it doesn't just wake up one day all shiny and new. 

No. 

It fucking eats itself. 

Imaginary cells begin to form on top of it's dying body wrapped up in isolation. 

The butterfly had to imagine it's new structure.

 Vision, last step before transformation. 

That's what I'm missing. 

Perhaps I'm still grieving...

over words spoken, and never heard. 

The touch I never seem to feel. 

Haunting those I love, 

because leaving is too painful.