Splay me open
Crack my chest
There’s little enough left
A heart in tatters
Each new day cut slivers
Stuck in throat
Flowed out with tears come unbidden
Weaving a false tale of hopes realization
Fantasy without root
Just another sliver
An ache that never ends
Take what blood remains
Chest hollowed out
Filled with burnt ash
An endless well
There is this moment. When the person you love most slips beyond the grasp of this mortal world. The whole world turns to static. And you react on automatic. And you keep moving like that until you are shocked awake. And sometimes it takes more than one. But eventually you emerge. And all that pain. All that rage and broken shard memories pierces every piece of you. You will spend time. Plucking the shards out. Ripping them out. Until the only thing left is the rage. If you’re lucky, if you can call it luck, you find a way to use the rage. And once it’s gone, you’re empty. And you fill that burned out ashes that you call a life with whatever you can. And, if you’re like me, you burn in your secrets.
But maybe you find a way through. And maybe you start to feel and live again. And this time, this time you will live out loud. You will love and you will speak the truth and you will be the best person you can be. And this time, maybe….this time…maybe this time you’ll be in time. Maybe this time you’ll say the right words. Maybe this time, you’ll be enough. Maybe….
Sometimes everything I’ve ever lost comes crashing down and I’m left with this hard physical pain in my heart. It’s not a heart attack. My heart is literally breaking. I wake up from a dead sleep crying with this overwhelming feeling that someone I love is gone and I frantically check to make sure that they are alive and then I realize that it’s her. Morgan. My Morrigan. She’s who is gone. It’s like losing her all over again, but there’s a calming effect too. One that I think I should feel guilty about but only because I don’t. Because, if the feeling is my Morgan being dead, that means it’s not some awful premonition of someone I love, who was just alive, now being dead.
It’s possible it’s an anxiety attack. I tend to only get them when I sleep. The trigger is generally some feeling I’ve been dealing with in the waking world come spilling out past all my defenses.
This happens all the time. I get to the point where I find hope to be pointless. Something gives me my hope back only to shortly thereafter crush it like a bug on a windshield. Like the universe is one massive simulation and I drew the short straw. I don’t know why the moment that I am free and happy something beautiful happens, something beautiful that always falters and leaves me broken in its wake.
I heal faster these days. I learn. I progress. But, I still wish someone would stay. Would embrace me as I embrace them.
I hate going slow. In a relationship, I should clarify. I know I should learn to deal with it and I’ve really gotten much better about it. And I should clarify again that I consider any interaction that involves deep conversation a relationship. In the sense of growing levels of interconnectivity as the interactions spiderweb and one becomes enmeshed. I like the enmeshing portion, it’s what tells me that we, whether it be a friend relationship or a romantic relationship that this might last. If I’m important enough to make the acquaintance of friends or family then the relationship seems more stable to me. And stability and clarity is important to me. Better to start exploring the possible from a stable framework. A friend told me that she expected that from me. That I would want to be certain in my speech and make sure that I am well understood because I am a Dominant. I suppose I never thought of that. Because when you swim in the sea, you don’t really think about the water. But she’s right. If we understand each other we can be comfortable. If we are comfortable, we can explore and be the best version of ourselves easier.
But still, I hate going slow. Even though I know it’s a more stable path. I’ve lost too many people to sudden things. Not just Morgan, but other people too. That makes me feel rushed. But I need to take a breathe and slow down. Very few people feel comfortable with fast, and if they do, many see fast as temporary.
I have never been a man who could not follow his heart. When I was younger that meant looking for the cracks in the world. It meant exploiting my talents and the talents of others for fun and profit. When I met Morgan, that started to change. I began to mold myself into a man she would be proud of. When she was ripped from me, my heart led me into darkness. Into silence. Because in the hushed darkness it was easier to heal. And, while externally, I became more harsh, more abrasive, more cutting; internally I became introspective. As I poured over and over the events of that night searching for any way, any possibility that this was a dream, a nightmare. And despite myself, I healed. And I met a man who led my heart out of that darkness. Who showed me it was OK to love again. OK to still be alive. He eventually left but I was awake and could not close myself again.
So I followed my heart. Again and again each time I was hurt. Each time I learned what humanity was. In my long absence, I had grown cold and distant. Until a year ago, when I finally forgave myself for not saving her. I forgave myself. But I must acknowledge that I failed My Morgan. And I will never fail a love again, if I can help it. If I know what is happening.
And I opened myself up, and I, in my naivety perhaps, thought I had found. But no, again and again, my heart leads me to people who are hurt and I try to help them. Because that is who I am now. Not the only thing, but it is one of the pillars. But I pay a price each time. I can love and love forever. And each person I love leaves or will only give so much before they pull back to safety. And so I am stripped bare. Cast adrift, seeing the bright lights of the people I love, twinkling from the shoreline. While I drift at sea, forever unable, seemingly, to make landfall.
There is a euphoria to posting something that is both personal and fundamentally true. It carries you for a time. Like walking after setting down a great weight you’ve been holding on to. And just like that, it wears off. Pretty soon, you feel like yourself again.
It may be this time of year. I just can’t seem to reach back beyond that night. I try to think of the night we met or any of the hundreds of other moments that we were happy in. But it all just morphs into me holding her. Waiting for the doctor to arrive. Her shallow breathing.
I feel empty. For the last few years I’ve been, at least, talking to someone romantically. That takes the edge off. Like there is hope. But this year, it’s all just ashes.
I find myself crying. And have for months now. I can’t seem to get out of this. Mostly, in the day, I’m OK. But night brings the silence and I can’t handle it.
I would dance a thousand lives
Swallow a thousand lies
But I’ll never be with you
The river carves
While we while the time away
Hoping for healing voice
But finding our paths to tragedy
Sin in hopeful tone
Long buried beneath
Perhaps, a chance
I am lost in the echo
I would die a thousand deaths
If I could hold you in my arms
As I slipped away
I would live a thousand lives
If I could live them by your side
I would fight a thousand battles
If I could keep you from harm
I would watch your back a thousand thousand times
As you fought the battles I could not see
These thoughts as I lay awake dreaming
In this empty bed
In this too quiet room
Give me a moment to catch my breath
I’m lost in this minute without
The air tastes of mint and menthol
I can’t tell the difference between
Moving on and moving back
I can’t decide
Can’t find a choice
I’m lost in this perpetual glow of hope
Does it matter?
I was never hurt by waiting
Just pushing away
Trained to accept your word
I falter in holding on
Because you say
I’ll leave and I say stay
I suppose it was always too late