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mybarefootdrive Nov 2019
One day you will marry. You are head over heels in love.
I see the display of your relationship played out before my eyes as if I am watching a film. It is hard to be passive to it.  It is hard to feel removed when I was once emotionally attached.

But I will be the bigger person. Hoping for karma to acknowledge actions performed against my own interests, as I flood my brain with Mind Over Matter and plaster on a smile, toasting to the beautiful couple on their wedding day, their dream day. As a sharp vivid memory plays assault on my well being.
I will hold eye contact and wish you well. My hand clinging shakily to the champagne glass filled up to the brim with bulk bought prosecco.
As my heart breaks into a thousand pieces.

I know my own displays came out messily
when indulging in a rare fleeting moment of intimacy with you
a grand declaration
A whirlwind of emotion.  
Did you ever see love as fierce as that?!
But you didn't want that
You were not in it for the long haul with me.

mybarefootdrive Oct 2019
I cannot blame you for a depression that existed in me, before we even met.
It made sense you filled me with a joy so enormous
simple minds fail to comprehend.
Tapped into a sacred spot
not visible to the naked eye.
The euphoria was a sight to behold
when I held you in my arms.
Fleeting as it was
intimacy I was born to understand.
I found my calling
my reason
against an otherwise fractured and cruelly cold world.
mybarefootdrive Jul 2019
Sometimes I remember the spiral staircase in Melbourne in 2009.
Not just because it was dramatic in its structure and
the words I shouted echoed off the rails
the walls.
I would have admired it in different circumstances.
My legs rushing, following every turn and bend with the height of emotion.
This heart pounding.
Hollering at the top of my lungs, where I lacked in stature, boy could I make some noise, at 22.
''I am not a ******* lesbian'' were the words my broken heart chose, not my finest moment,
could be construed as misogyny,
but there was direct personal truth in that statement.
Wrongly having that identity enforced by a virtual stranger
would never bode well, while amped-up with testosterone, seething with rage. I could not fail to fight my corner.
Faced with a feminine man whose maleness was established, respected when I was jealous, truth be told, could only vaguely imagine a future being level with him. I would have made a full meal out of any leftover scrap of validation, he couldn't find it in himself to throw my way, in a position of privilege, but to suggest I was not even anywhere on the male sphere, but a masculine woman.. Well, that hurt, my ego, my heart, my minds vision of myself, any effort I had consciously made to present myself to the world.

Sometimes I remember the spiral staircase in Melbourne in 2009 and remember just how far I have come
mybarefootdrive Jul 2019
We kissed in four places.
London King's Cross station stood witness
to our devastation.
Once a commonplace of joy
kissing you on the platform before we parted ways,
polar destinations on that Tuesday night.
Deer in headlights
half waiting for the jeers of drunk people
who wouldn't know love if they stumbled over it.
It was easy to spot difference
it was all the easier to ridicule it.
I was all too ready to apologise for my difference
which would have been single-handedly insulting to your difference;
Your lovely difference.
mybarefootdrive Apr 2019
I stayed in an abusive relationship longer than I should have.
I endured ill treatment at the expense of my self respect and well being.
My physical and mental health.
I tried to soldier on, until I couldn't anymore.
Until I had no reserves to run on.
Until I had nothing left to give
and everything to lose.

And, even after I have left
I develop symptoms,
the delayed reaction
recovery process.
The fall out.
Tumbles down on me,
and wipes me out.
Knocks me flat.

I end up in A&E.
The doctor comes in to talk to me
and when confronted with a single question,
I cannot lie convincingly.
My face cannot protect wrong doings anymore.
I have to admit I am in recovery.
And I never fully rationalised the pain
the confusion was unresolved.
I used softer words like 'unfriendly' in place of the truthful; Bully.

It was never my fault.
mybarefootdrive Oct 2018
In the secret passageway where we had been hiding out, avoiding the end of term Information Technology lesson Hannah and I explored our similarities and differences.

You were a scholarship girl, a bright 12, to my slow to develop, 13.
You turned to leave,
leave me with your pearls of wisdom
utterances which would simultaneously excite and unnerve me.
Do you know I looked up the word lesbian for the second time?
You rattled me, poking at me, un layering like an onion.

I extended my hand before my mind could take on the full summit of actions and direct consequences, of implications.
My body took the lead, you whipped around, your mouth agape, ''Hannah'', a hoarse whisper and a quizzical yet knowing look.
You held my gaze and we both knew at that moment the truth that lived between us.
mybarefootdrive Oct 2018
I think about you in mundane settings. I cannot help myself. I mostly saw you in a hurry, a flurry with drinks accompanying an intimate gaze and dim lighting. You’d let your hair down and wore jeans once. I thought about it for days. I wondered after the dancing and last drink wore off, the last song of the night, joining the late night dwellers, London pub-goers on the night bus. After wiping your make up off, I thought about you succumbing to sleep in the early hours, being as close to you as your pillow.
I thought about you working during the day, but somehow despite us both belonging to planet earth, found it hard to imagine you undertaking daily routine tasks, sat in the doctor’s office, walking through a park.
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