I’m tired of being

I would very much like it if a paramour would ask me out. Would say you’re interesting, want to be with me? I’m so tired of choosing and after a time falling and thinking that this person wants me as I want them and being wrong each time. I’m tired of putting myself out there and seemingly wanted then dropped like they grasped a adder. I’m tired of falling for the ones I can’t be with. Tired that only the ones that are safely taken have the least bit interest in me. Tired, just tired. I don’t want to have to be the strong one, the chooser, the asker all the time. It is exhausting.

I thought I’d found her. Got to know bits and pieces over 3 months, told her I was interested in more, that I was falling in love and wonder of wonders she said she was too, 6 weeks later she was gone. Off living her life like I was nothing. This isn’t “beating a dead horse”. This is me struggling to understand. What did I do? What didn’t I do? Was it the way I did it? I NEED to know the why’s. I NEED to know the intricacies. I cannot learn, cannot grow without that information. And in the absence of a long talk with her, I have only the pieces I have. So my mind goes over and over and over again each piece. Attempting to glean new information. Consider me posting a way of clearing out a bit of the debris from the process. Maybe it’s not interesting, maybe you don’t want to see me in pain. But it is necessary. It is how I work through things and come out stronger. Leaving things unexamined in the past, only feels ok in the immediate. In effect though, it’s like leaving unstable unexploded ordinance all over your psyche.

I know it’s not interesting to read. It’s not entertainment. I write stories for entertainment. Listen to one or read Pel and Sara. My poetry is art. I hope to strike a resonant chord. I hope to affect my reader. My thoughts are just that, thoughts. Maybe there will be value, maybe not. It’s all process.

I have a more than 2 year back catalog of poetry and stories like Why or Cubicle.
Hopefully those will tide you over while I’m getting a handle on developments in my life. 

Writing poetry

I have not been writing much poetry lately. Basically because my poetry tends to come from a place of darkness and loss. And lately, I’ve been happy. I unboxed my memories of the night that My Morgan died and replayed through the events of that night. I came to the realization that I did everything I could. Took every measure possible. The weight I had been holding onto for 10+ years shifted to acceptance. This burden I had been placing, that I was the cause, that I was at fault fell away. There was a responsible party and it was not me.  Then I met someone interesting, beautiful though I had never seen them. We’ll see where that leads, but like I always say, Only forward.  This is good. These are good things. But it makes it hard to write my brooding poetry.  I’ll need to find another way to operate.

Running out of titles

I am alone. And so poems and stories about lust make me feel connected. Like if someone thinks ‘hmm, that sounds lovely’ I am less alone. But I still wake, without someone in my arms. This is my fault of course. If I wanted to wake up beside someone, I could find a companion for the night. If I relaxed my criteria. If one night was all I wanted. I long for what I once had. But perhaps it was a once in a lifetime. Perhaps we were shooting stars racing to find which would flare out first. I’m tired of sifting sand, looking for the pearl. Perhaps I should reconcile to the fact that the type of person I desire will always be with someone else. They are too beautiful to not have found there hearts companion. I had my chance. It’s over.