You think that you were hurting me,
but I promise I was letting you.
It is hard to be alive
In a world where
Being dead inside means
That it will be easier to live.
And that, pretending that being misunderstood
My heart is broken
You are my heart,
I had to delete photos of us in all of these places. It took me about 30 minutes.
A reminder that no matter how many places we’ve traveled, our final destination is being strangers in our city.
In vibrant health,
Your ex Kymmie
I will always love you, as is. Imperfect, broken, re-constructing. Even when I get injured in your process.
I find myself in the same place I was in 6 years ago.
Coming up with a new plan to disappear slowly.
People wonder what could have done for you
When you’re gone.
And all they had to do was listen.
I told myself it was okay to sink.
Okay to sink in the water at the bottom of the well
That I falling into
Even though I would probably drown.
It went on and on, giving me time to think about
Giving me time
To accept the outcome.
That my anticipation was guaranteed,
There was dirty water beneath me.
When I finally hit the bottom,
It was as dry as the Saharan skies
My surprise came as I realized that I had survived
Though, it hurt like hell.
I guess my life lesson is that I can anticipate the worse outcome,
But the reality can be much harder,
And I will still live.
Let’s suppose that you were able every night to dream any dream you wanted to dream
and you would naturally as you begin on this adventure of dreams,
you would fulfill all your wishes.
You would have every kind of pleasure you see
and after several nights you would say
wow that was pretty great
but now let’s have a surprise
let’s have a dream which isn’t under control
Well somethings going to happen to me that I don’t know what it’s going to be
Then you would get more and more adventurous
and you would make further and further out gambles
as to what you would dream
and finally you would dream where you are now
If you awaken from this illusion
And you understand black implies white
self implies other
life implies death
you can feel yourself
not as a stranger in the world
not as something here on probation
not as something that has arrived here by fluke
but you can begin to feel your own existence as absolute fundamental
what you are basically
deep deep down
far far in
is simply the fabric and structure of existence itself
Forgive me if I stumble…there is just a lot of mess on the ground…
Somewhere in the clutter I have lost my way. Told myself that I could go on pretending that not seeing a future is part of the fun. And missing you would be like cutting my arm on purpose and having no choice but to self care the wound. That it was okay to be in a relationship where my partner didn’t have to be present, so long as they are calling to check in and let me know that they are on their way; yet somehow always late or even worse, never showing up. I never wanted you to feel responsible for the way things turned out, but I can’t help but see the fact that the failure shines brighter than the future, and the conversations are just white noise to the truth…my truth. I feel selfish because I wanted to see how this thing turned out. “What if we have the best fucking relationship that anyone could imagine”. What if? The question is so powerful that it could rearrange my life plans, silence my unhappiness, and keep one of my size 8 1/2 feet planted uncomfortably in the door just so that I can win the prize at the end of this very difficult game that we seem to be playing…It has become apparent that the only way to fix this travesty is by accepting it’s broken, and realizing that we have lost some of the parts to put it together.
You have become the poetry that I write
In my head
Have become the love at first sight that I’d set out to meet
Every day and night;
Am waiting anxiously to see if
I am just dreaming;
If I am
just making up stories
To mask the pain of loneliness.
Or, if it is the
Drag me down
With my tongue…
And the only way I can allow myself
To fall into this