When I broke, it was not her fault

I broke myself upon her, like water on rock

The way a wave breaks itself, eternally at most

Thrashing wildly then crashing blindly, deluging distant coast

Great weight driven by moon, gravity, and tide

Powerless over it's course, fateful in it's dive

Rising restless from it's shifting sleep

Drowning itself dripping upon silent shores feet

Raining it's bulk down on sand and stone

Dragging itself back to dark depths, alone

If I could quit you
If I could resist

If the truth did not ring true
If the pain did not persist

If the sun were to fail to shine
If I didn't live for dreams of rain

If they didn't drip-dry into this heart of mine
If I didn't weave them into and between every refrain

If I lost myself and I couldn't remember why
If I could ignore that you're not here, holding my hand

If I could picture your picture and refuse to cry
If I wasn't on my knees, if I was able to stand

If there was a drug to take to make me forget
If it erased longing, and sorrow, and pain, and regret

If I could simply eat it and you'd disappear
If I could just drink it and drift off, free of fear

If I pretended to want these things to come true
I would only be lying to myself, trying to spare you

She lies

Because I lie

I lie

Because I am insecure

She lies

Because she no longer trusts me

I lie

Because she hurts me

She lies

Because she doesn't want me to see her pain

I lie

Because I fail to understand

She lies

Because she can no longer see the truth of me

I lost her

When I could no longer see the truth of her

_

I tore my hand from hers and I stumbled backwards feeling disgusted.  Feeling disgusting.  

Soiled, oily.

Five bottom-shelf screwdrivers and a pitcher-and-a-half of cheap beer briskly informed me that my stomach was a little too happenin, and they were gonna go ahead and go.  

Like, NOW.

I ran towards the bathroom, elbowing several people out of the way as I went.

Several much larger, and leather-clad Mowhawkians.

Moshers who had been standing in line for at least 15 minutes.

How I didn't get punched I will never know...

I careened into the stall like a methhead pinball and got ready to lose my liquid lunch.  

The watery hi-***** and natty light must have seen the same sight I did, because they decided they didn't really have anywhere to be after all.

I propelled myself away from the nightmare cesspool masquerading as a toilet, mostly by force of horror.

Luckily my legs wanted the **** out of there as badly as the rest of me, and they shakily complied.

Rocking side-to-side like a punch-drunk prize-fighter in Round-9, I bulled past an eight-foot-tall stick-figure goth-person, and it hit me:

I am going to have to tell her....

I was suddenly alone in the club.

...I am going to have to tell the love of my life that another woman kissed me.

The electricity went out.

Not in the seedy South East D.C. nightclub, but inside me.

The room was still, full of the life-like statues of dancers.

Lasers, frozen-fire, suspended in darkness and smoke.

The color had drained, like a rerun on a black & white TV...

I could only watch as my life crumbled in my mind's eye.

In the midst of this noisy, noxious, overcrowded *******.

In deafening, rhythmic silence.

What passed for air was sweaty-*****, and midsummer dank even in winter.

But the air around me became crisp.

Not crisp like the wind in February,

Crisp like the silence in a tomb.

Fitting.

Because I won't survive this.

I didn't know it yet, but this $5 cover open-bar might as well have been my tomb.

Sealed as tightly as my fate.

With a kiss.

_

"Let me go, set me free,

I'll come back if it's meant to be."


A pronouncement, not a choice.

Then she said, with tears in her voice,


"If you ever loved or respected me,

Don't call me anymore, please."


I couldn't argue, it wasn't my place.

Plus, she said, "I'll call you, I just need space."


She didn't believe in destiny or fate,

Or being locked to a future that she didn't make.


I don't believe in fate either, it's a moral vacation.

It's my belief that destiny is simply ones destination.


Was it such an insult that I once believed,

That we were so well matched we were meant to be?


Did our destinations just not intersect?

I waited for years, I never thought she'd forget.


Finally I worked up the nerve to leave word with her parents.

She called back, indifferent, but said she'd make an appearance.


Years of silence, now suddenly we're meeting at eight.

Nervous and scared I waited, she was only fashionably late.


We talked and caught up for an hour as we ate,

Though the butterflies only let me pick at my plate.


Just outside, she said she didn't have long,

But come sit in the car, and she'd play me a song.


I sat shaking in the dark van and I listened.

Well, to tell truth I tried, but was so nervous I didn't.


I tried to be cool, but underneath I was a mess.

Somehow I found the guts to blurt, "Can I have your email address?"


I agonized and worried, I tortured myself and fought.

What should I say?!  Bah! Just be honest, I thought.


Heart in throat, I emailed her, I told her I was still stuck.

She replied with an ice bath, "Too bad, get over it, goodbye, best of luck."


I'd love to tell you I was stoic, strong, and poetic.

In reality, I stumbled around like a zombie for years, it was pathetic.


I tried again a decade later, total fiasco of course,

I was lost and emotional and going through a divorce.


She was nice but aloof, she said, "If I'm on your list."

It set me off balance and gave the conversation a dark twist.


I read into her words with my own bitter pain,

And earned the response, "Don't message me again."


Time heals all wounds, after a while, it was OK, am I right?

Sorry, but nightmares still trouble me night after night.


I dunno if it's Covid, or I just know one day I'll be dead...

But I have to try and get this stuff out of my head.


Rip it out of my chest and wrestle it onto the paper.

Maybe, with enough words, I can start to fill in the crater.

_

Young and in love, two kids with a lollipop.

The future is theirs, a sundae with a cherry on top.


Honest and innocent, immature and insecure,

Both happy and scared, both hearts sure.


Nine months spent together, three spent apart;

Missing, Longing, and Waiting:

One year til two broken hearts.


3 days left, 2 heartstrings severed by 1 lie.

"I talked to her!" Said her friend, "Come over, let's have a beer and get high."


"Well?! Why hasn't she called?  She's barely written..."

Jealous and wicked, she lies, "With another she's smitten."


The room spins, the floor falls away, the lights start to flash.

My cigarette just burns, the beer tastes like ash.


I expected to be abandoned, I always knew I'd end up alone.

Fool, I stayed when she said, "You're too drunk to go home."


I didn't deserve a second chance, nor should I have wasted,

But I couldn't speak, twisted, conflicted, and consumed by self-hatred.


I blamed her and her friend, I tried to hide it by running non-stop,

But in the end, it was my hand that broke the lollipop.