You were the only thing in the Universe shining brighter than any star above us in the sky; the night I realized I loved you.

Uniluminated room,
Unsure of my surroundings,
Faint white light deliberatly creeping forth brining life to atmospheric tranquility as I begin to release the fear of my unknown and feel safe.
Growing conscious of hands slowly beginning to cradle my waist
I don't have to turn around to know it's you.
We stay like this for a moment just breathing until the silence is broken by very distant music.
"You came", you say, pulling me close.
Smirking to myself I reply with "You didn't think I would?", i can tell you sense the implication of a joke within my voice.
Quickly I find myself spinning around to face you as you twirl me ever so delicately.
"Hello Sweetie", I breathe.
Our movements while minimal, were perfectly timed with our slowly beating hearts.
Music creeped through the distance finally reaching and joining us as we swayed.
At first I couldn't recognize the song playing background noise to our little two-step.
Suddenly as a flash of a mempory, it dawned on me, the soundtrack was our life.
Through distance, through impossibility.
Breathtaking music which was perpetually repeating.
For once in my life, undoubtable clarity.
My eyelids fall closed while your fingers sweep delicately across my face.
Single tear rolls away and I too return my hand to rest upon your body.
Lifeforces entertained my soul wrapped within yours.
Stepping towards forever, eternally.

Thick clouds covered the grey night sky. The air was unusually warm, sitting at just two degrees Celsius. An odd occurrence just days before Christmas. Laughter returned to my ears, bringing me back to my surroundings once more. Casting me out of the haze of a daydream I had been absorbed into.
You. Standing across from me. The blaze of the roaring bonfire being the only thing keeping me from you. Well, in my current fantasies anyways.
Despite all logic I am absorbed by you.
Your iridescent beauty, the smile which melts the deepest ice in my soul.
Just then your eyes snap up from your current conversation. You've caught me staring. We quickly look away, the rush of embarrassment and excitement so strong.
In this moment it's as if this fire burns only for us. An unspoken agreement with the universe if you will.
A romance of wood and fire.

Your hair falls into your eyes, and as you brush it away our eyes come to meet again. My breath seems to be coming in gulps now. Can you read me so clearly or am I as much of a mystery as you are to me? I want to dance with you. To feel the rush of your hands cradling my hips. The thought almost brings me to my knees and with that you're no longer in my line of vision.

"You look cold", you say and with that your arm wraps around my shoulder. Holding me tightly to your body. I could collapse right now and die happy. You're so casual about the whole thing I wonder if you've even been aware of the attraction I have to you.
Instinctively I nestle closer into your shoulder and I'm surprised to feel you tighten your hold on me.
My thoughts dance around the idea of putting my arm around your waist but I decide not to.
"Thanks, that's better" I laugh nervously.
"This fire really is quite beautiful", Cat says from somewhere beside me.
I smile in agreement, for it is a lovely night.
A million stars would be plotted across the sky if not for the cloud cover and the bare trees would make for the perfect canopy.

Slowly people disburse, wandering back into the confines of the garage. The snow is falling heavy now, big chunks of snowflakes sprinkles down on us layering in our hair and our  jackets.
And then it's just the two of us.
The nervous energy sending sparks through my body. I hope you don't pick up on it.
I slink out of your arms to rotate my backside towards the fire which causes you to laugh deeply. "You're one funny girl" you say. I don't know who is shining brighter.
I want to tear your clothes off.
For you to feel the passion raging through my body as I lust after you.
I want you to scream out with pleasure as I wrap myself around you....
You're standing in front of me again, inches from my body.
The ember of the fire burning red off your eyes.
I stand here wondering if I see the hint of desire in your eyes, or if it's just the reflection of fire, speaking for you. Telling your secrets.
  
Nearly knocking me off balance your lips are now heavy on mine.
Catching me so off guard I am almost rendered incapable of kissing you back.
When I find my footing I kiss you back hard.
Throwing all of my time spent watching you into it.
The times I just wanted to tell you how **** I found you.
Your tongue slips past my lips, lightly brushing against mine.
A harmony
You control this kiss, I am in it as long as you carry forth.
Our passion is coursing through my veins now. Every piece of me wants you to just take me now. Right here by the fire.
You eventually break away and I'm left gasping for air.
The taste of your mint gum lingers in my mouth.
We smile, and I am left stunned.

He undressed you with his eyes long before he planted that greatly anticipated kiss on your mouth.
Taking you by surprise as suddenly his lips fell heavy upon yours.
The aroma of consumed alcohol sweet on his breathe as you tasted each other for the first time.
Afterwards he laughed because you were a good kisser, and seemingly all those wasted kisses were the unscheduled target practice for the moment in front of you.
You toyed with his attention, finding it refreshing after barren winters with less feeling than that of frostbite.
His eyes consumed your view, unable to quite place the color. You just started uninhibited into his vision galaxy.
"You're eyes are beautiful", erupted from his lips like a geyser, nestling deep into the crevices of your soul and finding a home among the dust and cobwebs.
His words on replay like the playlist you comprised of the songs that he showed you.
Your subconscious ushering threats of caution, beware that of beauty.
The laughter shared was infectious and for the first time you felt whole, but not because a pretty eyed boy was attracted to you.
Sharing close quarters with a similar soul.
Those eyes burned a hole into the back of your mind, written in stone until they're chosen to be forgotten.
Replaying the events of that night, to as not forget.
Dance with the devil, because he's disguised as a beautiful boy with greyish blue eyes.

Late spring when the sparrows sang again
Ants make invisible trails across my legs, normally I would mind but they're moving steadily along their way.
Wind blowing my hair in every direction
Showing me grey I haven't really noticed before
My age spots, proof that youth is fading outwards.
Freshly brewed coffee from the Tim Hortons down the street.
A vice if you will
Something that often brings me comfort but can amp my anxiety into overdrive.
I drink the coffee anyways.
Strong aroma of freshly cut grass, the first cut of the season.
Lilac bushes with a hint of the unmistakable scent of fresh air.
Everything has sprung alive, which I am quite thankful for.
Yet I feel somber.
So many thoughts flow through my mind in a day, an abundance of questions and unanswered emotions.
Through age and maturity has taught me that I no longer wish to seek the aproval of strangers for I need not impress anyone but myself.
Yet I had hoped that growth and forgiving others had meant I too along the way would be forgiven for the actions of my former, younger self.
Sitting here opening my heart to the universe,  continuing to be the best I can be and to grow.
Looking inward, and attempt to seek out the approval I didn't have when I was a child.
I am nothing but myself.

The itch of a sunburn on my skin, being home is slightly bittersweet.
A reminder that problems which trouble your mind follow you everywhere.
I'm constantly caught up in the everyday battle of deciphering what's really there and what isn't
In the sense of real ailments and anxiety.
A trouble of the mind and body, plaguing me
Making me feel like some reject, unable to live a normal life.

But it started because of something I did to myself. Underlying feelings my entire life let loose by some rampant act of idiocy. (All to impress a dumb boy. )
Irrevocable and for years now it's been an ongoing struggle.
Trying to feel normal, when I can barely remember what normal is.
Constantly feeling like I have to explain every ******* symptom to someone so I don't feel like I'm dying.
It's exhausting.
It doesn't happen every day and I thank whoever for that, because if it was....
I don't know what I would do.

Sick and tired of feeling sick and tired with all these unexplained questions. Always searching for an answer. Hypochondriac tendencies, introverted so deeply without a reason.
And the entire time I've just wanted to feel like I'm not coming undone at my seams.
That I have more of a ******* purpose than over analyzing every single feeling I have in my body on a day-to-day basis. Somehow in all of the disarray, I found someone who loves me, my gigantic flaws and all, and despite all the trouble I have, sometimes I feel like if I don't keep it to myself that he's going to leave me.
Because who wants to be with someone who doesn't work at all?

A child of a mother who was severely schizophrenic. A father who was gone for too **** long, but not by his own fault.
Resentment towards a woman who despite her problems did everything in her power to keep her two children alive, when she probably wasn't feeling so alive inside. Raised by myself, with her guidance and having to come to terms with the fact that you spent your entire young-life knowing you didn't have a dad. To having him save you in the midst of a war you didn't want to have, and that was a miracle. Realizing all you knew in your life to that point was a struggle and not the way things were supposed to be. You were freed.
Spending the next few years trying to live up to my fathers seemingly unrealistic expectations, never quite understanding that was all that he was given. Trying to make the most of what he felt was slipping through his hands, and *******. To know then what I know now.
I wasted so much time just wanting to feel loved, because I was lacking what vital fundamentals I didn't have. Thinking that's what made life worthwhile.
Years passed, and I always told myself, diminishing my life struggles because someone has had it worse. But my struggles were real, and they mattered.

Never allowing myself to say "yes, you've been through hell" and it's ****** that I have to pay for it now. A few wrong choices can ******* up real nicely. How long do I keep resenting myself instead of accepting and moving on? My life has been filled with good intentions and wrong choices. Looking back at all the things that I've seen and all the people who have come and gone, I'm absolutely joyed I have who I have now.  The few who stuck around.

The hardest part of it all is telling yourself that you're okay, that you're going to be okay. Watching the city come alive on the balcony cause you're afraid to fall back asleep. Anxiety comes with a price. You lose pieces of your sanity.

Ultimately in life's big write your own song- you learn a few things. Feeling the cold air making my hair stand on end, causing a shiver reminding me that I am alive. Without my struggles and problems I've experienced there is no way I could've shaped into the individual I am. Something to say thanks to.

A deep breath, a longer than usual exhale.  Acknowledge these feelings for what they are. I hope they won't be here forever.


-spoken word.

Mommy spoke to god today
He told her to wash all of my sins away
I put up a fight, but mommy won
I'm in the tub with my clothes still on
She shoved the shower head up to my face
This is a punishment for my disgrace
I swore out loud, I started to cry
Water poured into my eyes
I cannot see, I dare not to breathe
A few moments of torture and I hope I break free
Mommy has to wash my sins away
God told her so today
He said I was bad
Young children must obey
I don't even know what I did anyway
I cannot scream
I cannot cope
Mommy please stop you're making me choke
Ten years old
Nothing but cold
After a few moments she allowed me to go
The apologies followed
I felt oddly betrayed
"Do you not love me?" I wanted to say
Mommy is okay now
Thankfully Mommy calmed down
I don't understand
The force of her hands
God spoke to mommy today
The water washed my sins away
Am I a good girl now?
I'll try to behave
I'm just a child
Looking to you for guidance

Midnight is moments away yet I'm heavily preoccupied
The smoothness of your cool skin beneath my fingertips
Trailing lines and leaving tiny goosebumps in its wake
You're a whirlwind of the unknown and even now your thoughts are a mystery to me
Attachment separated by a long pattern of half fearing abandonment
My fleeting youth swirling up flashbacks, semicolons and wasted years

They say that love is a fight, and anything worth fighting for never comes easy
I call *******
Love doesn't have to be complicated erupting in geysers of harsh words meant to wound you deep to your core
Arguments and fighting don't mean you love someone
Humans are these fragile creatures equipped with the capacity to aspire and inspire

I can't express myself like I used to

Silence.
Emptiness.
Often an unusual thing here, that of silence.
Where as its welcoming, it's also consuming.
Your face, like a neon advertisement on a billboard, flashing messages.
Adornment.
Chastised between the whipping willow tree.
Then and now, through all of time and all of space.
In a very seldom looked upon way, we are all time travelers.
Destined forth between black holes and brilliant supernovas.
Sprinkled dose of fairie dust upon the imagination of a child.
Shame as we grow older we lose sight of that which imagination thrives.
A collective innocence of a generation.
A first kiss, a scraped knee.
How you felt one summer night long ago, while a storm rolled in and your favorite person in the whole universe pulled you close and kissed you as the sky broke.
Unleashing a powerful rainstorm, but you stood there.
Braced against the elements within love.
Maybe the answer to life isn't who your forever love will be, but how many little moments can you remember that are entirely worth remembering?

Kirsten; like any wicked step mother you’d read about in children’s story books.
Her presented facade dissolved quickly with days passing since we arrived to reside in her home.
Ample kindness mixed with my first real impression of what narcissistic personality looked like.
Classically she had no children of her own at the time she was exactly the age I am now as I pen this unpleasant memory.
Oddly enough our body types are nearly identical though she was taller with short curly hair often chemically relaxed and dyed a darkened shade of red.
She was the only example of a plus size woman I’d ever interacted with; with a large chest I wished to resemble  when I grew up.
I was eleven at the time and extremely flat chested though I’d developed rosebuds when I was five being the overweight child.
Kirsten loved us- or she pretended detrimentally.
We bonded over the two plump tabby cats she owned though I detested doing the litter- being guilted into it because she had multiple sclerosis although argumentatively she’d have done the litter herself long before I came along.
Adult excuses though whereas her illness was real she didn’t really do much of anything after we came along.
Normalcy was just that at first- family sit down dinners around this white table with cylindrical chairs specked grey and white cushions.
I’d always be yelled at for crossing my one leg under my rear as I’d sit.
“You’ll break the chair that way, stop it” they said on the regular as I’d never remember.
Truthfully that position was comfortable and the chairs never broke.
One resided in my fathers empty home till a week ago- as strong as back in 2001.
Dad and Kirsten were heavy smokers at that point, chain smoking regularly in the front room of Dudley street though the smell would seep through the crevasse and deposit itself remarkably amongst the house.
She’d buy me identical clothes to her- one pink and white fuzzy sweater in particular then berate me for copying her. After all, a very narcissistic thing to do with me being  ******* eleven.
I loved that woman more than I’d care to admit.
She was my first motherly figure after being removed from the home of my severely mentally ill birth mother- she was still a form of normalcy though our relationship deteriorated unrealistically quick.
Before the family split up; we had a sit down dinner though Kirsten wasn’t present.
Having an MS flare I asked how she was when she trapped past the kitchen table toward the washroom.
Innocently enough, I was not prepared for the extremely violent outburst directed toward me- 12 at the time.
For the life of me I don’t recall the words though something like how much she did for our ungrateful family and I ran off to my bedroom without dinner crying from this unwarranted attack.
Everything changed after that point.
That was one of the only times my father emotionally soothed me; their life deteriorated into nightly fights and our fairytale life traversed into a puff of dust.
Kirsten was a dangerous reoccurrence for years after though the veil of particular wonderment was long forgotten.
I needed a protective female presence though I received a covert narcissistic *******.
C’est la vie.

Forget your appearance
Erase your name.
Relish in the anonymity
The freedom of new beginnings.
Who was I?
More importantly, who have I become?  -----
That can only be told by the future.
Matters not does the past
Be who you are without the confines of pressure.
For you are brilliant
In your own peculiar way.

- Natasha Whitley

You are dead to me, yet your memory haunts my mind
Years of drug abuse and alcoholism wrapped up in 140 pounds of pixie cut hair.
I base every negative instance on your inability to stay clean, but oh did I love you.
Self preservation finally won and I took flight away from you and your problems in attempt to live my own life
Ten thousand terrible stories in the time we were sisters, our laughter and tears shattered like glass hit with a hammer
You were fiercely brilliant, wasted youth and potential but you turned into this horrible thing when you were drunk
I’m sorry you couldn’t understand why I needed to leave you but I can still smell your perfume when the wind blows too strongly
Friendship is fleeting, so much is true
But even still, no one else compared to you.

You were a poison
An exoskeleton of the lies you built around you
Your sole purpose; hate the world for the wrong done to you even if some of your pain was by your own hand.
A deadly plague infecting and wiping out the surrounding villages
You knew not of pure air
Just layered muck filled with pollutants, black tar and Crystal.
Oh how you loved Crystal
A true serpent with ice cold eyes
Luring in your victim and ******* the corpse dry
An endless circle of distraction, but you could never escape your mind.
Take a look back through history
Paints a clear image
All tyrants are brought down by a lesser Evil.
You too shall fall.

You walk up to the porch, muddy boots disturbing settled dust
Looking down, you proceed to wipe boots off
I cringe slightly as muck settles into my crevices
You finish your task and step onward toward warmth, leaving your wake behind
***** and dripping wet
“Let me get the door for you”, I say happily  as I brush the dirt off my clothes following you inside.

Haunted by the memory of your touch on my flesh
Trickling water over your shoulder blades running over the place by your hips I like to kiss.
Midnights are for lovers but so is five and six am as day breaks and I’m still enamoured within the area code where sound escapes your lips one last time before I gather my things and go.
Bidding Adieu.  
©rhetoricalcuriosity

Subsequently, why does our mind deliver us to such dark regions?
Unbeknownst, we swallow the poison until our souls run dry.

You were my weakness,
You had always been my weakness.

The delicate curvature of your lips
Swirling arousal around my hips
Trailing deliciously intimate kisses

Until you’re enjoying yourself amongst my soft inner thighs;

Warmth trailing by moonlight
We kiss and the night is lost within your deep blue eyes.

@RhetoricalCuriosity

When I was younger I lusted after the quieter days
Dead of winter months ******* in a haze
Unable to see through another's eyes
Studclosed trying to decipher life's truth from its lies.
Foundations were built from less than what I had
Underappreciated minor convictions
Brought forth with deeper afflictions.
Nothing makes sense, of that I am sure
Obiediently await the deafening allure.

When I was nine years old, my mother threw me into the shower.
Holding the removable shower facet in my face and proceeded to drown me.
This wasn’t a regular occurrence, fully clothed body and screaming for her to stop.
Choking, crying as this water cascaded into my open mouth while I struggled against the grasp of a plump body.
This scene, shattering protrusion of fear and betrayal.
A woman clawing out of flesh from the inside. “Don’t hurt her, she’s your daughter” one voice said but the urge was too strong.
I knew this woman, as she ripped me sleeping from my bedroom.
The smaller room in a two bedroom duplex adjacent to the bathroom and not very far.
“God wants me to do this”echoed repeatedly.
My brain registers the reality that she doesn’t intend to hurt me but I can’t breathe.
This only lasts a few minutes, she has done the lords work of cleansing the evil from me.
My mother apologizes profusely, but she is still my mother.
She holds me and dries me off.
I cry.
The moment passes.
And everything is normal.

There doesn't seem to be a place for me among the busy roads of everyday life.
I wander aimlessly amongst myself for I don't know what I am searching for or if I will find it.
Nestled away in the concrete jungle, among the shelter of a bedroom.
Light peaking through the drawn blinds.
I wonder when I will come home to you.

I stopped writing love poetry when I met you
It seemed a farce, writing something for years I thought unobtainable yet there you stood
Despite all odds I went against personal judgement and we made small talk for a few hours
You drove, introducing me to Brian Fallon songs I’d grow to attribute to our relationship
My thoughts had become consumed with your image yet nothing I could do would eventually prevent you from leaving
Time had been nothing but a blimp, we lived years through the minuscule moments we occupied the same space together
A lifetime of love crammed into a solid year and a half.
Love is undoubtedly heartbreaking when it leaves you,
Silence envelopes to be mailed out at will
You were my greatest love poem, but my words never did our magic justice.

“I wanted to be happy”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room
Intrusive thoughts
Dismaying salvation of pathologized compliance
Masking behaviour for acceptance
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable
Dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding
Belted and crying
Please stop, it hurts
Fearful avoidance
Nothing feels safe
Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain
Complex post traumatic stress disorder
Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic
Chronic pain with desolation
Desperately craving the touch of another human
Covid times; worsening depression combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping
Powerlifting self regulation though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you
They would make effort
Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.

I've written so many poems based on the hypothetical of ***** scenarios
Envisioning all I dreamed of without realizing I knew nothing of love.

There is something so beautiful about a rain shower.
Water falling from the sky , light at first then turning heavy.
I never quite understood why people were so concerned about covering up from the water.
Feeling the rain fall on your skin is just part of the magic.
Fresh and wonderful.
Never seeming to last quite long enough to satisfy the wonder.
Rain is the strongest point of relaxation for me.
A powerful force released by nature in attempts to wash away all sorrows and anxieties.
The cool water on your skin reminding you that you're alive and breathing.
Everything is going to be okay.

Darkening night sky
Crescent moon shape between you and I
Taste of lust on your lips
Hand brushes slowly up my thigh.

Whisper your name
Fist clenched sheets
Learning the language your body speaks.
Bringing me toward my defeat.

My entire adult life spent through selfies adorned with false smiles, vanity portraying the "best version" of myself.
My own body delusions still presented without filter, although masked.
Raw, vulnerable photographs through my weakest moments, tear strings, pink cheeks and red eyes aren't something I've felt comfortable posting.
However posed my photos are, they still aren't altered.
Playing up my own dysmorphic disorder from youth yet grasping my own beauty seen as overly vain.
Early youth Ex boyfriends told me selfies were extremely narcissistic, and made me seem rampant for attention.
But does a girl who has such little following still seek approval of others when they don't like photos?
I'm not sure.
My instagram feed is dull.
It's not uniform or beautifully choreographed.
I often hide photos, as I too enjoy hiding myself from time to time.
I intended on leaving an imprint of all these useless photos I've taken over the last decade. Physically I no longer share similar traits to younger versions of myself, though mentally I've changed overall time and time again. People have called me iron-clad, the strongest person they know.
But am I?
My body embellished with secrets of a personality I used to be too afraid of showing men until this fall.
How many basic accommodations I've missed out on, how my body soaks up the granules of this love.
My being is a season, wise in my own way and mystic in terms of value.  
Windows beaming with warm midday sunlight, and crispy fall mornings.
Evolving rituals, moonglow and warmth. Certain darkness like still plotted night skies. Teetering vulnerability, and overstuffed closet.
Days less spent pining over lost dysfunction, and moreover trying to figure out who I have become.
Perceived destruction of oneself versus proverbial Phoenix reconditioning.  
Warrior ignite.
This winter's met with welcomed warmth though grazed heartache and sadness.

You tell me you love me
(No one loves me)
You tell me people care
(I am alone)
You say I am beautiful
(I am ugly)
You tell me it gets better
(It won’t)

I never believe you that it gets better
But it always does

Erase your name from my fingertips, never again quench these thirsty lips.
Fright said right an ending was left.
Head against pillowcase she wept of mourning.

Curdled cream and three separate drafts of a memory I can't quite pen properly.
Disappointment inbound, pouring the first cup of freshly brewed coffee down the drain.
Had I checked the date this wouldn't have been a waste of $4; but a solemn reminder of analogies leaping from my brain.
Cycle of sleeping all day to lie awake during the nighttime, overthinking. Curtains of feeling bad about inability to wake normally, darkness of the evening encompassed I finally pull myself out of the bed.
Despite this current pattern, last winter undoubtedly worse with feelings of self destruction and loathing.
For currently I do not cry every waking hour, just wish I was different with no apparent response to change.
Cats continue to be stricken with yet another upper respiratory response to declined immune system of an exotic breed.
Lost debit card, jobless flounder.
No appetite or desire to binge eat for the first day of my existence.
Headlight reflections crawl across the ceiling and I'm suddenly five years old again, afraid of almost everything.
Summer evenings when the whipper-well called out haunting symphony of their nighttime songs.
I never quite believed they were birds, moreover monsters and I never heard those calls other than childhood.
My father outside, and I in the grass.
Childhood wonder as he climbed a ladder to retrieve me a piece of the moon.
Wide eyed awe at this miraculous feat, my father could reach the moon.
Unnoticed by young eyes, the moons sphere just out of reach by trillions of lightyears.
A rock plucked off the driveway.
He must've been proud of his farce, my bewilderment and excitement beaming.
I love you.
Twenty five years later, a memory I haven't connected to in decades.
Perhaps the next time I look to the man in the moon, I'll see your face etched softly on the surface.
That radiating glow reminding me things will be alright.
It's been an odd winter, my heart is cooled more than our weather as of late.
Somewhere through the forests of Sandilands Provincial forest a deer crunches across the snow.
Silence, except for its breath, a softness.
Trees encompass, nurture and protect.
You are home.

Daylight emanating coils of uncertainty from within myself
Trajectory for unwavering retribution
I am lost among the crevices thy mind creates, etching fabrications with regression
U n w o r t h y
U n l o v e a b l e
F a t


Grievances I whisper from blanketed sheath depression
Thoughtless lies birthed onto soft flesh and bone
I am worth......
                                         less.

Damage inflicted, heartbroken thoughts coveted blissful time spent among your breath.

Unkind to myself during depressive episodes, clockwork fabrications intertwined rationality.
Those become a new truth forging insecurities of panhandle insecurities



You are more than the darkness surrounding you.

We sit around my aunts brown kitchen table
A scene we’ve done a thousand times before where I slinked unnoticed behind my hair until it was turn to recite my yearly accomplishments.
Back into the shadows.
This time is different.
This time my father is dead.
Suicide.
He went missing 24 hours before.
“Your fathers illness took him”
He was diagnosed with a neurological disease months prior.
We never spoke.
No it didn’t, my brain screamed.
Suicide.
I run to the kitchen in panic trying to find clonizapam which I almost never take cause I’m afraid of pills.
“What are you taking, doing drugs won’t numb your pain”.
He’s a cop, of course anxiety meds would be seen as “drug addiction”.
“I’m having a panic attack” I muster, angrily from the displaced shame.
I don’t take the pill out of spite and we don’t say anything on the 30 minute drive to his house.
I’m probably sheet white, I feel anxious.
I feel nothing.
I haven’t cried.
We had a terrible relationship, dad and I.
Terrible.
Suicide.
Hours pass.
Minutes?
I dunno, I’m dissociating into everyone’s grief.
Stop talking to me.
I don’t want to be here.  
So many unanswered questions, ones I still don’t know nearly a year later.
Silence and awkwardness.
I sit at the head of their table and avoid everyone’s eyes except my little brothers.
They’re all staring at me, finally paying attention to me after so long.
I hate it.
I want to disappear, their eyes like pathetic little daggers of sadness.
Why the **** am I here?
Someone mentions my tattoos.
Yeah.
I have tattoos.
Tattooed hands, and a dead father.
I only cry when my brother does.
Telling him it’s a suicide, a face I’ll never forget and my soul left behind at the death of his innocence.
Nothing left to protect.
Our father is dead.
6 days till the year death anniversary.
I don’t cry as much as I had after the veil finally shattered.
I’ve never known depression like that; though I was able to find myself after severe heartache.
A traumatized youth.
C-ptsd.
Pass me the join, I need to sleep.

Your eyes were my own private river, bathing in the ring of blue around your iris. Enamored with the greenery protected by your eyelashes.
November to February not long enough to drown beneath them

I am plagued by the ghost of your reassuring caress
Your breath during nighttime a missing comfort
For alone I am surrounded by darkness.
Moments spent cradling cobwebs of each-others limbs
Intricate designs casting from our bodies as we felt like one in the same.
Our allure as a couple outshone the mundanes of just a ****** attraction
My soul felt yours
                                          







         ­                                     but I am alone,
                                                    
     ­                                          with the overbearing grief of love lost.




                                                       ­                                  March 16th, 2020



          Darling,
                                      please find your way back home.

I glance around the room eyes coming to rest blankly on the surfaces in which your essence hasn’t touched.
You’re everywhere, swirling around like a misting of mystery.
Mildew takes to the cracks of my foundation pressed for waterfalls adorned with your love - a fragment of Jupiter sprouting from antique headdress and residing softly amongst shelter of my lungs.
Mourning you is never pleasantly accepted
Forever yours, never again.
Repeating melodies crawling with June bugs and riot gear.

The war is inside us, suffer mentally into delusions.
Become the thighs of retributive policies.
Daybreak from heavens the angels are calling.
Fornicate brethren church on heathen property.
Exchange admiration for apology
Such simplistic words escape your mouth
While you critique the work I produced as heavens lost property.

Fallen archangel.
I am God’s *****.

©rhetoricalcuriosity

“I wanted to be happy,”
The words crept from my lips like scurrying little spiders when their home.
Disturbed amongst darkened cobwebs in an untouched dingy room.
Intrusive thoughts-
Dismaying salvation of apathologized compliance.

Masking behaviour for acceptance.
“Stop spinning in that chair- it’s annoying”
Self expression became punishable,
dismaying youth- retribution beyond reasonable understanding.
Belted and crying,
“Please stop, it hurts.”
Fearful avoidance-
Nothing feels safe.

Transmitting adulthood with repressed memories though awakened by medical emergency of your cat.
Navigating uncertainty since July; desperately attempting to understand inner workings of trauma brain.
Complex post traumatic stress disorder.

Medical diagnosis though intrusive thoughts still catastrophic.
Chronic pain with desolation-
Desperately craving the touch of another human.

Covid times; worsening depression, combatting betraying myself with fathers abusive words while unproductively masquerading oversleeping.
Powerlifting self regulation,
though collapsing under the bar.
If they wanted to talk to you,
they would make effort.

Though I still fawn my way to self acceptance.
After all;
That’s what my parents taught me to do.
©rhetoricalcuriosity

I’ll tongue circles around
the determination
to experience    
intimate attraction.

My poison apple,

addicted.
With just one kiss,
on those
******* perfect
lips.  
X



©rhetoricalcuriosity