You are beside me in bed,
Asleep.
Distant.
You are in some far off land I have no transport to.
I look at you.
The softness of your face.
The expression you make while you slumber.
I have never seen anything - anyone - so beautiful.
So fragile.
Yet,
The strength is all mixed up with the beauty,
and with the softness,
making my heart want to be in your dream
with you.
Together.
You and I together.
In that land that makes you smile as you slumber.
You have my heart.
Now and forever.

I say it is chartreuse,
You say it's yellow.
I say you look wonderful
in red,
You say you look fat.
I say you haven't aged,
You show me your wrinkles.
I say you love too much,
You say "But I love you."
I say nothing because
I'm smiling.

It isn't likely
that I will live
much longer.
Emotionally.
I fight for love
every single day
without believing.
This road has
too many turns
and dangerous
separation.
Ambivalence.
Why do you
love that which
is unlovable?
You deserve more
than who I am.
My words -
they cry,
they are sad
and this is
all that I am.
Even I don't
like me.
Even I think
I complain
too much.
Even I know
if only I
believed....
Why do you
love me?
Run!
Save yourself.

You have again made your way in,
Cold and beautiful.
You are December,
And I love you.
Despite the seasonal celebration,
I know you to be more.
You are calm,
You allow me to slow,
To envelope the tranquility I crave.
Your winds, December, though cold,
Allow me to feel the life in my cheeks,
And if I’m lucky,
It too will bring the sweetness
Of some distant firewood.
I welcome your snow, December.
So that I may sit wrapped in wool,
By candlelight,
The dog having nestled in as well,
Watching the frozen rain accumulate
On the branches of the birch and oak.
Though I live in the city,
I dream of loving you December,
Even more – if I were in nature.
Then I would feel closer to you,
As a lover may feel,
Or perhaps a mother to a child.
I would know, I think, how to
More fully know why I am in love
With you.
And being with you, December,
Brings me to life.

Allow me today to sit and talk, while sipping on my cherry Kool-Aid – which by the way, tastes just fine to wash down my prescribed addiction,

I sit and relax today, I so rarely do – well, in truth, I have sat in boredom for months while life, people and chaos have come and gone, only to all visit again over and over and over…

I have focused so much on what is ideal that I know nothing about what actually is.

I have listened to sirens beneath my window, the ambulances, the fire trucks, searing into my brain a desire to be able to ignore them as they pass all while holding good thoughts for those who the sirens attend to,

My dog and I sit, he by me, me by him – along with the cat, sitting day in and day out – wondering.

Wondering – what if I wasn’t sick?

What if I had been a writer like I wanted to be?

What if I had learned to play the violin?

What if I hadn’t been molested as a child?

I write these words because there is no one.  No one with whom I can converse.  My dog – in his antsy fervor – has yet to utter a single word in contribution to my many attempts at conversation.

I don’t know where things changed.  I hear that people don’t like to be around people who are depressed.   I don’t want to be around me much either.  

Suicide, though an answer, I don’t have much courage for.  My mother always said suicide was a sin and you’ll go “straight to Hell” for doing it, then followed that up with “don’t even think such things!”  Rest In Peace mom but I think of it every day – but it’s a good thing I never learned to have courage in life.

The ice in my Kool-Aid is melting. Perhaps it’s a metaphor – a representation of what is happening in my life.
The bright red of life is watered down, becoming pink if the Kool-Aid to ice ratio is just right.

My heart is broken – again.  I continue to believe that somehow the one that I love will love me wholly without the need for sordid little rifts in the back seats of cars that sit far off in a parking lot, not under the lights – maybe under a tree that hangs over the last spot in the corner.

And where am I when this happens?  Home.  With the dog and the cat.  Cooking dinner, I imagine.  Knowing and oblivious.  Intuitive and in denial.

You used to love me so.  On our hours long bike rides through St. Petersburg – never venturing to Tampa because I didn’t want to ride on the Gandy bridge.  We sat time and time again at Mirror Lake contemplating our future together.  Happiness ensued and you were beautiful.  It felt as though our souls fused each and every time. And then I began to wonder.

Wondering – will I always be enough?

Will our lives be happy together?

Nine years into our relationship, will you still see me the same way?

I have changed – through no fault of my own – a series of strokes can change a person.  They can leave you blind on more than a physical level – but that too.  I didn’t mean to be different.  I didn’t choose to be cross-eyed and wounded.  I wanted to be more for you.  I, for some reason, need you to believe in me, for me to be better.  Are you still here?

Somehow, though, I knew that I would not always be enough for you.  It came as no real surprise when it was confirmed the other day.  The question is: what do I do now? (Oh, and… are you in love?)

I have no self-esteem.  I have no one around me to help pull me from the clutches of happiness turned sad.  Social media and a telephone are no replacement for a hug or a hushed conversation in a coffee shop – where I embarrassingly admit the emotionally crippling downward spiral of what I have allowed for myself to endure – the shame.

I deserved to be loved too.  I deserved more than cherry Kool-Aid, a prescription addiction and time spent wondering who you’re with.

Mom, are you sure you were right? Just wondering.