Mountain

I left you on the mountain

You couldn’t come with me

You didn’t want to come

So I left you

Again and again and again

And I’ll leave you still

A thousand million times

As I climb away from you

And what cannot be

I’ll race away from you

Swim dive crawl

A million miles away

Until I can’t feel you at all

Until I can’t feel you at all

Enough

it’s never

enough

I eat into a hole of ever-elusive comfort

fullness that makes me sick

shame and guilt and weakening of spirit

compound on top of the ice cream sundae

chips and dip

subs and pasta and fast food crap

my face puffs and minerals drain

I wonder why I self sabotage

this draws me rightfully to further inspection

I need to nip this and heal this and open this wound

love myself more and not be confused

about my place and who I am and why the sky falls

about my heart and how it was wounded

my mother wound and father too

divorce and moving and being a parent to my mom

when life got too much for her

I shouldn’t’ve had to be the support

for her wounds of childhood, myself a child

I was too strong, too kind, too spiritual, too grounded

for my age; god wanted me to play

I carry this pack with me today

still following me around, often heavy and draining

I am filling up with over-everything

over-travel/over-trying/over-proving/over-competing

over-fantasizing

OVER

Let me draw a line in the sand, for myself

Let me heal myself as no one else will for me

I don’t have to prove myself to anyone (and even when I try, I often fail regardless)

I don’t have to carry your load, I can set down your pack

and continue on my way on my own

the ridge is calling me home.

Forgot

I brought

40 dresses and no socks

to impress you

Jumbled and swollen

out of place and wilted

Trying to renew, trying to impress you

Birds sing out my hotel window

This spring day has brought fog and traffic sounds as well

Life is never linear

Nor love, I am told

The bus rattles outside

One sneaker is on, one dirty sock

Lost a bit without you

Over/under/blue

Fix

I haven’t much time

I’ve got hills to climb

ways to prove I’m worthy of you

I’ve got hair to cut, highlight/lowlight and style

teeth to straighten and whiten

nails to do

hooded eyelids to make new

frown lines to erase

pounds to shave

years to reverse

satisfaction to find

a life desirable enough for you to want to drop your own

and come running

ah!

the heart is a victim, it’s dumb, it’s a curse

(off to the salon I go)

In search of a connection I’ll never know

fool

We were in a pool

and my pillowy body felt welcome and accepting in your arms

We kissed and hugged and groped and tugged

(I did other things to you too)

A deep acceptance and a trying-this-on

And then you left

to have some pie with another

in a booth, just you two

and I waited and waited

and then went to look

and you both were gone

The rest of the dream

was spent with me trying to find you

Suddenly, there was a flea market of sorts / marathon type bazaar (bizarre)

booth with trinkets, people lining up to race, all at once, all together

(so easy and seamless in dreams)

and I started to jog to impress you

I passed you in your well-dressed suit

you were speaking on the phone

you liked speaking on the phone

you were not into me

you avoided me

you let me know

and my heart hurts…

I ate candy, drank wine

played music and wept

hard reality and distance of heart and mind setting in

I am a fool.

Pretty. sure.

Probably. not.

You’ve seemed to soften a bit over the past few weeks.

Which is good. We’re back to a little Small Talk. chit chat.

Personal anecdotes are acceptable again.

The leaves are falling as the sun hits them on their way down. Shining in their death fall. There is beauty and grace in things dying, in letting go.

The sun will still shine for you. You are still alright.

You are still there, just in a different place. On the ground.

Others join you, nestle around you in the cold.

You are never truly alone. Death is regenerative and feeds a different life cycle.

Maybe our time will come again in a different life form.

Maybe it’s time I say goodbye to my fantasy.

Have fun at the campfire with your girls; throw something on the grill for me.

I will be here, trying to build my own fire without you.

Dirt road

The thing is

I love you.

I love you, it’s true.

I cried this morning when I spoke with you.

Tears formed because I couldn’t handle you.

Your words shook me to my core. Reassurance, stability, good nature, introspection…

that’s what I’m searching for.

I’ve found it you; my heart is blue.

Never shall our lips meet, never shall our limbs lock.

Soft caresses, sweet nothings, deep feelings, silly smiles

Grand hikes, world travels, bills and budgets, hotels and homes.

Gardens and eggs and wine and chocolate.

Lettuce and hot sauce and enchiladas and sizzling bacon.

Hot stove, cold, sweating glass of ice water.

My heart leaps over and over in disillusion and reality of you

Lemonade and swings, dirt and baths.

These things go together, like country songs and old dirt roads.

Like you and me,

in some far off place,

never to be.

tossing

all night

fan turning

comforter between my legs

flipping back and forth

getting up to pee

walking aimlessly through the dark halls

grinning from ear to ear in the nightlight’s soft illumination

feeling flutters deep within

and feeling a bit insane

with love

infatuation or lust

(I’ll take the combo, please)

My toddler is sleeping next to me

I curl up into his arms and smell his sweet skin

his chest moves rhythmically up and down

and I latch onto his joy and calm and sweetness

to calm my inner stirrings

ground myself (try)

sleep again (its not goodbye)

just a few winks in this disastrous night

a married mama full of feelings and fright

for what have I done?

it shan’t be good

to wind up alone, knocking on wood

in hopes to reclaim all I threw away

for another reality that surely won’t stay

Continue reading “tossing”

You

(The other you)

The way-back-when you

I dreamed of you last night

A saying good-bye of sorts (finally, right?)

Just a few sunsets later…

You were marrying her (again)

A few of the wedding guests remembered you and me together (back then)

And still believed in us

And argued with dour faces that I was the one

for you

Even your son, in my dream a blond and well-mannered sweet 8 or 9 year old, made the case

He somehow seemed to know

But you didn’t

Or couldn’t

Or wouldn’t

And I found myself awkwardly wondering why I had been invited

to this whole spectacle to begin with

So I will leave you there, awake now

at the country club and ball

And forgive you and forgo you

for another…

(me)