She has returned
This time wearing all the trappings of an overworked, domesticated woman
Cuts on my hands
From hastily, angrily chopping vegetables

What would it be like to lay on your chest
and cry about my dying dad?

I wonder sometimes, if I'm being dramatic
But, no.
It's not dramatic, as it is right now, he is dying.
The chemo is killing the tumor and it's killing him in equal measure.

My mother held me today
In the crook of her neck I rested my head
Her arms wrapped perfectly around my back
And I listened to her heartbeat
The heartbeat that my whole body knows
I rested against her secure, warm body
With my own arms curled into my own chest
I cried little sobs
That she soothed and cooed

Is this what it takes for me to rest against
My mother's chest? (the judgement of my vulnerability asks me in its relentless way)
My father's decline and weakness?
No, not just this (I respond in patience)
This and many other things.

I want to be a good mother one day
a wonderful mother
I want to be a secure partner
Someone who is not anxious and avoidant
And fearful
Maybe this is all allowing me to heal that (the part of me that wants to make sense of this suffering suggests)

I left the house
Then I thought that I should go back inside and hug my dad
Who is still alive
So I did
And a tear slipped as I told him to take it easy

Then my mother saw my crying face
And burst to her feet
I'm sure she thought he was dead and I was coming to tell her
He is that fragile (with this phrase I wonder who do I need to convince that he is as unwell as he is? Myself of course, the part from the beginning of the poem where I wonder if I am being dramatic)
But I told her he was okay and I was not
And she told me to sit beside her
1 month ago, two months ago, 5 years ago, 10 years ago, 15 years ago,
I would have never ever sat so close to her, rested against her chest,
Listened with such open ears to her heartbeat,
Let myself admit how soothing it is,
How it is her special heartbeat,
Her firm, warm arms
Her voice
That can soothe me only in that way
And that this is okay
That this is natural and I am beyond lucky to have such a mother
So, in pure, lovely vulnerability
I let her hold me and she did not let go until I pulled away,
And I did not pull away for a good long while

Healing occurred in her arms.
The healing of a small, scared child who was still waiting in my chest to be held in this way.

When did I last lay against someone and cry?
Allow myself to be held?
Allow them to feel the hitch of my shoulders?
And relax without that stiff little guard keeping my heart in the box?

Probably in college with a close friend, but I don't remember.

So, in my reality,
This is the first time.
A new life began for me today.
A new agreement to be held safe when I feel scared and sad
A new agreement to be soothed
And to feel safe
To be regulated
To recover
To rest assured
Rather than rest in anxious suspense or  in distracted quiet as I do other times.

Yes in this new timeline,
I know what it is like to rest against
A chest and cry
Not just any chest, I chide and remind,
My mother's chest
Wow, how soft am I becoming?
That I can enjoy this special medicine?
What other medicine's that life has to offer will I
Enjoy soon?
In what other ways can I become soft and open?
Open to receive and allow.

Days when life is hard and ugly i want to be **** with you
So I text you something *****
and you don't respond right away
and i feel a bit sorry for myself
and i lay in the bath
and i talk to my mother exclusively in Spanish about this and that
and i feel a bit better
then life doesn't feel so hard and ugly
and I contemplate the crutch of you
a **** sunshine boy in my mind
an ideal who is a fantasy
And says he just wants one thing
but really i think you love me
or maybe i mean as much to you on the flip side
of this coin we share
as I do to you but in a different way
are you aware of the fantasy?
or maybe I'm silly to think that I know how you think
you smoke
oh no, you smoke
you poor stupid little thing
did you start to be edgy?
How stupid
why, your poor shiny pink lungs
why damage yourself baby boy
i want to heal you
and i want you to heal me
you did heal me that day
and thats why i come back
and i healed you and thats why you come back
or maybe my ***** really is that magical
well its both
either way we both come back around
the promise of more of something
the tether between us
I learned that you mother passed when you were a boy
you texted me on mothers day
before that you texted me on thanksgiving
youre so avoidant and too cool for school
but you also said you were "holding it down in california"
so there's no way you can be that cool
i know you're not
but I want to bite down on the back of your hand
while your fingers are shoved down my throat
and up my ****
while you smirk down at me
and i melt in your hands that control me
own me
heal me
hold me
i want to take care of you so badly
and i deeply wish to be taken care of by you
but you know yourself well it seems
or at least you know what you are capable of
will this be like what happened with the french one?
but the reverse?
Will I be the one
with the partner
who still reminisces over text
but can't meet up while in the same city
and eventually it must be cut off in the greatest of what ifs?
perhaps
I think of him and it's unfair
though when i first saw him i was disappointed by what i saw
i thought his knees were too skinny
but really he was so hot
but really i was out of my mind and hadn't slept and
then we kept up the online infatuation for
three? four years?
with even more down the line
who is he to me?
what karma is there?
that we never met when i was in europe for over a month
but even in that time
it was right that we weren't together
because i was head over for that other one
oh so many ones
and yet here i am
alone
writing a poem to someone who will never read it
pining for who knows who
wanting a husband to manifest in front of me
and wondering if he does
will i still want you?
will i ever see you again?
what a joke if not
what silly kids we are to maintain this
to keep these candles burning
I supposed i can review our karma and
see what past lives loom

Sometimes it’s been too long
Since I’ve contemplated my own beauty
Spent time in the mirror
Admiring my cheek bones
And collar bones
And my hair
Admiring the way light
Plays on my face
Like a painting
I’m an adorer or adoration
And being adored feels just right

I'm realizing that I'm always right
About what is right for me
Or rather, I'm realizing that I always know
My body always knows
She tells me what is right and what is wrong
I must learn her language
To know earlier, better, more clearly what to do next

Someone calls and I think it’s you
Someone texts and I hope it’s you
And of course it’s not

Because you’re not thinking of me
Most of the time

You only think of me
When someone doesn’t satisfy I suppose

I text you and ask you
And I don’t think you’ll respond

Why why why do I do this to myself

Why why why is your disrespect not enough
To make me turn away and forget

I don’t want to forget you
Why?

I ask and I ask into the ether why

I get aligned and my life begins to feel smaller
More manageable
It looks smaller
And I feel better
I wonder if I’m disappointing my dad
By living so regulated
And at ease
With no ego pushing me to be famous
At every turn
It makes me melancholy
To think he would be disappointed
By my lack of stardom
What a pressure I’ve held all these years
To rise and shine
Big enough to him
To go and claim the light
The stage
The fame
He believes is mine
It makes me melancholy
And frustrated too
And nauseous
And confused
I’ve applied to teach high school art
And I’m really excited about it actually
Which
If I let it and I let those familiar voices
Which scream that I MUST BE FAMOUS
If I let them talk to me
The idea of
Living near good friends
Eating good food
With my good boyfriend
Making a good album that I’m proud of
Playing in a good band
Having good days
And teaching art
To make a good paycheck
With good benefits
All of this good makes me queasy
But it feels so good
The simple life
The slow life I’m allowing
Feels so good
Is it okay?
Is it okay that I don’t crave to be great?
The illusions fades
And I love my good mornings with my cat
In the sunshine with my hat and my tea
I remember the phrase that came to me
When I left LA
I don’t need everyone to hear my voice
But I want my voice to land on those who can hear me
That feels good and true
There’s some phrase I never remember
That maybe describes my conflict
Diminishing returns
The law of diminishing returns I think is what I’m thinking of
But anyway it’s a thing where you’ve put in so much work for so long
That you feel like it’s not worth it to give it up
You have to stick with it
Because otherwise your years and hard work pounding against an immovable wall will be wasted  
But it’s a fallacy
Because the years are already wasted
And you just don’t want to admit the waste
So you continue to waste
This morning I was thinking
So what if I stay here 3 years
And save up and
Then I move to Italy and buy one of those 30k villas and renovate it
That’s fine with me
And in that time get to meet my new long lost sister
See my dad healthy again
Enjoy more seasons and my mom as she moves into her new seasons
I wasted 8 years on a dream that hurt
Why not spend 3 years enjoying a quieter dream that comes easy to me
A life that is MINE
Not a life that craves to be validated by millions
Just so I feel worthy of existing
I am resolved
My small good life is good enough for me and it feels
So good
So I will let this melancholy sit with me as long as it needs
But my good simple life is good
And I’ll stand by it
And alter these pants I got at the thrift store
So I can wear them when my cover band plays our next show
And I’ll study for the teacher exam
And I’ll play with my cat
And work on my album
And have sleepovers and
Write poems
Smile so much
And breathe so so deep