My feelings are unsure, these I haven't felt before
My heart tears into two
People drawn apart
That too familiar feeling of being alone in the dark
As I think to myself, what have I done
With the quickness of the hand,
I take what I still love
And I run
I run away from what this means
I used to love me
I used to love us.
Married for all the wrong reasons
Who do we blame?
No happy future here
Just selfishness and shame
We used to be amazing
We used to be in love.
Now I have torn feelings, after each and every hug.
The tear no one sees
The ache no one feels.
Living in a lie,
Is this even real?
I've mixed so many emotions
Just trying to find love.
I lost myself somewhere
Somewhere I never wanted to go
I’m not going to lie
There is a part
It makes me sad
Tares me apart
I know after all
You still care
We went through so much
Has to be something there
Please don’t leave
Not just yet
A little longer
Then I’ll face regret
Thank you for everything
The good and the bad
I’ll get up and move on
It’s just a little sad
Enough time has passed
I don’t think so much
Then I remember the feeling
Of your soft touch
I am not ready for you
Out of my life just yet
I constantly think of that day
When we first met
I’ll keep it inside
And you will never know
Just know one day
You used to make me glow
I’m saying that for good
To be completely honest
I never thought I could
Good luck to you
I hope everything turns out well
I’ll walk away now
There was something about the silence
Something about the “Our little secret”, “Don’t tell anybody” silence
That kept intruding into our conversations
On Friday afternoons
The silence was the ex-boyfriend
Who sucked his “I love you’s” and “Baby”s
Right from his lips.
The silence was the ex-husband
Who demanded him to pay for everything
With him avoiding eye contact as acceptable payment.
The silence was the ex-lover
Who stole the romance
As it slowly got of his bed taking with it his words and love.
The silence was the reason I stopped talking to him.
You have someone interested in you.
But you're still creeping with him.
That divorce man of yours and the father of your kids.
No reasons you give seems legit.
And you try to offer them to justify your action.
And the only one happy is the divorce man.
You have someone trying to connect to you.
And he even commented, you're getting played for a fool.
Just being used for a physical need tool.
Satifying your ex-husband lust.
But the new man doesn't blame him.
As much as he level the error of judgment upon you.
He does inquire, what will happen when he quit you?
And another interest his heart.
Since you agreed to be used.
Don't later try to say he took advantage of you.
For that wouldn't be true.
Many men get blame for the stupidity of a few.
But in this case, it's you.
1st shot, I'll forget you tonight.
2nd shot, I should date Noah on the weekend.
3rd shot, Been 6 years since we tied knots
4th shot, This is for you and your lies.
5th shot, For the stripper with red panties
6th shot, Go to hell Steve.
7th shot, Why Steve?
8th shot, Steve ..
9th shot, I'll call Steve.
10th shot, Please come home. I miss you.
11th shot, One more Blue Margarita
12th shot, I'm not drunk.
13th shot, Hello Ben! Officially divorced!
14th shot, I know. His lose. Thank you.
15th shot, Blah.. Blah.. Blah..
16, 17, 18, 19, 20, How many shots?
Probably 21, drunk enough to slept with my husband's brother.
22, Ex-husband, Sylvia.
My aunt gave me crap about forgiveness but she could only speak up drunk get out of here your wasting my time. My other aunt is a health freak years to late after her husband just because he's dead you don't have to go out of your way to our live him.
My aunt I'd divorced with a bf but she her ex husband around she is everything she said she wouldn't be. I don't have close uncles they bail or divorce my aunts but I don't blame them got leaving. Just because you talk loud doesn't mean your right.
I have a screwed up family on both sides of my decomposing family tree even though I see most of the jerks like weeds bothering the garden ruining the beauty
For an hour on my drive to school at night,
When the music and headlights come on,
For that hour I'm a rock star.
If you stop and stare even better,
and I'd congratulate you because you are my audience.
I'm the drummer, singer, bassist, piano player and guitarist,
Hell I'm even the guy playing with lights back stage.
But as soon as I park and get out of my car,
I'm not a singer, I'm not a musician and
I'm certainly tone deaf.
Yeah I'm a resenting has been and ex-husband,
I don't eat, sleep or fuck but writing is what keeps me sober these days.
Singing is what keeps my mind off the time,
and music what keeps me off the lines.
I used to give out ratings.
Now I keep the words to myself
and if my opinion is asked of me,
I just give them the simple half.
Let them figure out what's missing,
the way I found out what I was needing.
I may not make a mill next year,
or be able to pay the bills this month.
But I will be recognized for the things that are
put on billboards and on your bedroom walls.
I will be known for the message you wear everyday,
and for giving a face to the girl that sings in the dark on stage
and plays in your car all day.
But for just this hour I'm just a simple rock star.
I looked at the clock
suspended pleasantly over the couch's window
Right on cue, the phone rings.m
I set down my magazine, crinkling back the corner of a page boasting "Dog Gone Good Mac n' Cheese"
and answer the phone
on the third ring.
My son, Harvey, it isn't like he's
a challenged boy
or a special gift
To be honest, sometimes he outwits even me
Things just always seem to....
Well, take what happened to Richard
My ex husband
Harvey would just shoot him
side ways glances
point for hours
Some nights, Richard would just wake up
But Harvey was just a baby, not even two years old, I cannot fathom what was so frightening about a prefect little baby
One day I come home
and Richard has decided to see how much
bathtub Kool Aid he could make
with just a razor and some hot water
Sweet little Harvey!
Must have accidentally locked himself in
with that mad man.
That poor, poor...
Well, anyway, after that, Richard left.
Now it is just
I'm sorry to have to do this through a letter, but
last time your crying just humiliated
the other couples in your group session.
Although, this might save embarrassment,
and make me look better, now that we are
both sleeping with other people. (If you
can call conjugal visits to your ex-husband people.)
This letter may well be the last memory
you will have of me, if your social worker
lets you keep it as a memento anyway.
I am leaving, and I won't be looking back either.
I am sure you won't be surprised or terribly upset.
It is completely your fault, no doubt about it!
Mainly, it is your long history with lying problems,
even more than your alcoholism, that keeps me
from being even remotely interested in continuing
this relationship with you. (I told you I forgave
you for sleeping with your boss, but I guess I
never really did.)
You would be so much better off finding someone
that can accept the emotional baggage that
you carry around, the ones with the orange tags.
Maybe your analyst can explain that to you better
than I can. I must say, I will miss some of the exciting
times we had together. Like when you got so drunk
and flirted with my father at our family Christmas
dinner. My mom has still not gotten the red wine stain
out of the tablecloth where you puked on it.
I'm glad this is finally done and we can go our
separate ways. I think you will find someone else
with whom to have an unhealthy relationship based
on physical attraction and a passion for strip-club bars.
Hopefully, this will happen incredibly far away.
Good riddance, and Happy New Year.
PS Maybe you should just go back to being a lesbian.
PPS I have no idea where you parked your car.
on july 13th, 2013: George Zimmerman
a florida native with a history of violence
was found not guilty for the murder of unarmed 17 year old African American boy Trayvon Martin claiming self defense
on may 8th, 2012 African American, Marissa Alexander:
a florida native with no history of violence
was sentenced to 20 years in prison for discharging a warning shot out of self defense from the wrath of her abusive ex- husband
i often wonder how you felt on july 13th when you heard the Trayvon Martin verdict
did you feel the heaviness of invisible shackles weighing your hands and feet down like you had stepped into the 1600s?
did you feel a surge of anger burn through your throat like i did for you?
did you ask yourself if you should’ve continued letting your husband play picasso on you?
Letting your body be his work of art as he splattered blotches of black and blue making a tie-dyed canvas out of you?
because the jury treated the bruises you wore as if they were the plague
saying beware of a black woman who protects herself
it takes 20 years of solitary confinement to cure her of this disease
are you afraid of the skin of bullseyes your two children were born into
knowing that society will use them for target practice every day like they did for you?
can you not sleep at night out of fear anytime your child pulls a hood over his head
that he is marking himself as sacrifical lambs to our legal system?
did you tell your mother the next day to burn your babies black hoodies
because on July 13th it was made known
being black and wearing a hood means danger
that being black and wearing a hood means you have a hunger for murder
that being black and wearing a hood means you have cosigned to a persecution?
and yet…we all seem to forget the ones in white that fit the same description
i hope you’re starting to see America has OCD
wanting to color within the same lines, with the same two colors
segregating black and white
neglecting to realize that blood and blood shed never bleed out in the same two colors
just look at the crime scenes of Trayvon Martin and your ex-husband
from now on when you bite your tongue while eating
don’t spit the blood out
leave it, let it settle, then swallow
and let it be a reminder of all the trayvon martins, all the emmett tills, all the james birds, and all the little black boys who died for standing their ground like you tried to
i know you feel like god abadoned you
as if he stabbed you into the back and sent you on a suicide mission
know you are my symbol of hope
you are my hero
the woman i wish to emulate and be
you are the one i pray for at sunday night dinners while holding the one hand of my black mother and the other hand of my white father
hoping one day america can sing free at last and actually mean that
hoping one day america can be blended and still be considered alright
hoping america will stop painting pictures in only black and white