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Shanna Howse May 2012
You are the ghost that encompasses love; you possess my every thought.*

     Dust layers almost every object throughout each room of this small apartment. Beneath a white sheet, the dark brown, ragged couch is a perfect image of the haunting fear I hold inside.
     In the miserable corner lay your favourite red guitar. It is covered in a blanket of neglect; never again will it feel your calloused fingertips slide across the cracked fret board. Crop circles design the hardwood of where the other furniture once stood.
     I have yet to set foot in this room; it’s been months since the front room has ever felt sunlight. It’s been months since I’ve been able to cross the threshold where our relationship was at its peak, and wipe clean everything that we’ve left behind.
     I don’t want this to disappear, forever. Besides the memories that haunt me, this is all I have left of you. It hurts to look at this room, where we’d snuggle on the once healthy-looking and clean couch, watching our favourite black and white movies. I cannot part myself from this place where the memories still live.
     Our bedroom… the bedroom still holds the faint scent of your cologne that wafts through the house when a small breeze slithers through the window, opened slightly to rid the musty stench. A chamomile candle is lit there too, though it does nothing to sooth my nerves.
     I once took up drinking, but it always ended in passing out. I’d recover consciousness to the overwhelming stench of *****; my hair would be sprawled and stuck in a pool of it. It was a messy ordeal—I couldn’t understand why so many people turned to it to fix their problems. I dropped that immediately.
     Smoking created stress relief for a maximum of ten minutes, which would last me a trip to the grocery store. The smell stained my clothes, my hair, my apartment for what felt like months of cleaning could fix. That was only three weeks after everything collapsed.
     I’m clean, which is probably the least I can say for myself. I couldn’t touch your *****, beer, whiskey, cigarettes, lighters. I had to buy my own; all of your possessions were poison to the touch. I don’t know how you could so easily leave all of your belongings behind for me to look at every single day.
     I lay in bed every night, curled into a tight ball of discomfort in complete darkness. My mind finds it suitable to replay our relationship as a movie as I whimper softly. I am never able to sleep. Dark circles are prominent under my eyes.
     The happiest memories come first. When we moved into our apartment, it was small and *****, much as it looks right now. Happily, we cleaned it together, dancing and singing and giggling about. That was the happiest we’ve ever been. That was right after high school ended, when we were dating for two years. We were harmoniously in love, with no greater differences.
     Then the night we were engaged… You took me out to the garden overlooking Niagara Falls. That was my favourite place to go. The car ride was only twenty minutes from our apartment, but you were so eager to get there faster. The falls glowed a lovely spectrum of colors, while the mist rose above and blended with the explosion of fireworks.
     “Elise, you and I have been together since graduation. All through college, we were the happiest couple anyone knew. We’ve had our ups and downs—that’s a given—but lately, baby, we’ve only been going up. You’re my sweet, gorgeous, lovely girlfriend. I love you so much; I’d like to change that term to fiancée. Will you marry me?”
     A firework exploded as I smiled and jumped into your arms. Ever since you’d hinted this a few months earlier, and I told you that as long as you didn’t follow the cliché and go down on one knee, and you agreed, I knew one day to expect it.
     “You mean you had nothing to do with this firework display?” I grinned, “Of course, Jeremy. Yes, I will marry you!” We shared a long, hard kiss before we went on the rest of our night. I glowed ecstatically as I walked around, very well aware of the small series of diamonds on my ring finger.
     I never expected that night to go as well as it did. I never expected you to become the nightmare you did, either.
     It was a wonderful romance until the occasional fight turned into an every day activity that we participated in. The night you came home late was the first of it, when you came home almost an hour later than you finished work.
     I stood in the kitchen, looking out the front window facing the driveway when you pulled in. Your response was a mumble as you walked right by me, paying me not attention. “Long night, babe?” I had ask. It was a completely innocent question, but you turned down the hallway around the corner by the fridge, and simply replied with a sharp tone, “Yepp. Goin’ to bed.” “I love you.” I called after you. “Mhmm,” you replied.
     Some nights you redeemed yourself. As I sat in the passenger seat of the car, you’d speed through the roadway and talk about yourself. At the restaurant, I’d pick the food off my plate and ate it slowly, but you’d notice and make me laugh softly. It was just an act—I didn’t want to let my mind think that it was bad as it was, and I didn’t want to let you know that the past few nights weren’t as bad as you thought. Then you paid for both of our meals, escorted me to the car, and we took off to the mall.
    Into the most expensive dress store we went, and you bought me a red satin dress that you thought looked great on me. You then found a three-hundred dollar necklace that matched perfectly, and I agreed that it was gorgeous. Of course I loved them—they were beautiful. You still cared enough to buy me these things.
     “There’s that gorgeous smile I fell in love with. I haven’t seen that in a while, babe. It suits you.” You smiled, gazing lovingly into my eyes and gently cupping my face in your hands. I had flinched at your touch at first, but I adjusted to the former comfort of your warmth.
     Our relationship balanced itself on a teeter totter through the last few months. As time went on, it got worse. Every innocent question I’d ask about you would set you off. My words were like a switch that I couldn’t control; you’d either respond blankly, or angry and impatiently. It was hard to tell every time you’d return home from work which man I’d be speaking to.
     I was interrogated, and it usually ended in horror. When I went out for dinner with my friend (who, evidently, was gay) you were so angry—I’ll never forget your reddened face—you shoved me into the bookshelf.    
     Yet still, I loved you all the time, even when you cared nothing for my feelings or listened to what I had to say. You turned selfish. Desperately, I grasped the memories of the good times to replace with the bad. There was always enough of it to cover, but the black cloud still remained.
     I gave you all I had, and all I was.
    
     My best friend Jocelyn from high school had to come over on the first night you left. You got upset because I didn’t have the money to make a good meal, so instead we had to have sandwiches for dinner. It wasn’t my fault—we both knew I couldn’t find a job; you were supporting us both, yet you were okay with that when you asked me to move in with you. “I’m starting to not be able to handle living here, Elise,” you yelled as I watched the door shut after you. I cried so hard that night, because I felt guilty.
     I had dropped nearly thirty pounds the last month before you left. I couldn’t eat, or I’d throw up. My body completely rejected everything I put into it. The nights I had locked myself in the bathrooms were a clear heads up that you could leave without saying a word.
     My best friend, once again came to my rescue. That night I’d developed an eating disorder, Jocelyn, who weighed as much as I did before, carried me effortlessly to my room and laid me in bed.  
     She tried to coax me out of the house, but I couldn’t leave looking the way I did. I knew I looked ghastly, but she said nothing. Where would I go, anyways? She had her own boyfriend and a two year old by that time. I was thankful enough, though, that she was there for me when I needed her the most.
     “I’m going to get you out of here. He’s so bad to you,” She told me once. We were sitting at the dining table while you were at work. “You don’t understand, I love him. I keep thinking that this is just a nightmare—a phase; it’ll go away in time.” I defended both myself and yourself with a sigh. “Look at you, Elise,” she whispered, as if it hurt to say it. “I’m sorry.” She quickly apologized. “I can’t help it, I’m just so tired…”
     She’d never spend the night, though she wished to, and I never left with her. She was so fearful of you and what you’d do to her. That was another reason she never called the police; if you knew I didn’t do it, you’d find her. A heavily-built man like yourself was intimidating to anyone you ever knew. That was another advantage in your direction.

     On the second last day, Jocelyn had to come over, with our other good friend Jayme, to help me out of bed. By the time we’d reached the kitchen that morning, you busted through the door, drunken and enraged.
     Your eyes of cold, steel grey focused on mine and I jumped, startled. Angrily, you broke the bridge of support the girls held me in, knocking me to the floor. “You two better get the hell out of here before I call the cops!” You slurred.
     It made no sense if you did because they’d take you away for the abuse that was evident on my thin skin. It didn’t matter anyways.
     Jocelyn screamed, “You’re demonic and you are a failure of a human being.” You nearly knocked her on the side of the head and stormed out again before yelling, “I’m done with you, I hate what you’ve become. You don’t even look like a person anymore.” My girls insisted on staying over, but I wanted nothing more than to be alone.
     The next morning, I walked out into the living room. My eyes were barely open, because I was extremely tired as always. It startled me when I noticed you sitting on the couch, watching me as I walked out of our bedroom. “Sorry.” You mumbled with softness in your eyes that I almost didn’t recognize anymore. You then enveloped me in your arms, which didn’t smell like alcohol, but rather the new-clothes smell. It actually brought some relief—some comfort. “It’s okay,” I couldn’t fight it anymore.
     But you never did learn that you can’t say sorry and expect to be forgiven as easily as you could say one word. We spent that night together but I didn’t smile once. You never once asked about me, apologized specifically for hurting me, yelling at me, anything. All you talked about was yourself.
     “You have to leave, Jeremy. I can’t handle this anymore.” I looked down at the sheet we wrapped ourselves in. Through my hair I saw your wrinkled, scruffy face fall. “You can’t apologize enough. But if you wish to one day come back and treat me the way you did in the beginning, I’ll be waiting with open arms.” Then you got up, and walked out of my life.

     I didn’t think that was the last time I’d see you. Knocks went unanswered at the door for months, but I’d know if it was you. I sense these things.
    
     For now I wait, pace back and forth through this hallway, waiting for you to become a better man. The photograph of us hanging on the wall has yellowed, and as I trail along beside it, I pass over the crumpled collection of clothing with a *** of paper underneath it. My love for you will never die, the way another part of myself has.
Shannon Hardy Jul 2010
Wow. I remember counting down the days since i had fallen in love with him.
I am still in love with him.
Whenever i see him my heart still skips a beat, but its not hurting as much.
I still look into those green pools and get weak in the knees
All my friends and family think i'm crazy or just plain stupid.
Or just still in love
A lot has happened
Too much to write it all down
I am converting to Mormon
For me
Not him
I have repented for my mistakes
I feel so much stronger
I kissed a boy
I imagined it being Ben
****
I wish it was
I wonder if that will ever change
If we'll be together again
We have tried to stay away from each other
Impossible
To hate each other
Impossible
Maybe its because we are meant to be together, just not right now
I don't know.. i need to stop putting those ideas into my head.
They only cause dreams
Dreams that could never happen
only deceive me
But wait... is it wrong to have hope?... Faith?...
I was finally able to listen to the song he dedicated to me
"No ones gonna love you more than i do" -Band of horses
for the first time since we broke up
It didn't hurt as bad as i thought it would
Probably because lately i have been asking God for strength a lot.
I feel him holding me at night
Easing my pain
Sleep had become my enemy
Until now
God has saved me
i miss Ben
I miss the good times we had together
We are working on our friendship... again
This time it should be better because i am stronger
I don't need him as much as i thought i did
But.. i could still live my whole life and eternity with him and never be truly unhappy
I am afraid because the only person that understands me and has my back is my sister Jayme
Everyone else is criticizing me
I've asked God for strength with that
One day they'll understand that everyone deserves forgiveness
I know Ben is going to be a better man
I have faith in him
I love him
With Gods guidance we'll both be better people and if we get a second chance at our relationship i believe it will be a new, stronger love. It will make our hearts swell and i know there will never be a day i do not smile because of him
He still makes me smile
Even though he is gone
I could never hate him
He gave me the greatest gift and opened my heart and mind to God
I will always love Ben and I dream that one day i will be looking into eternity with him and God watching over us.



I want to write something not about Ben...
Jayme M Yaroch Sep 2011
God, I'm lonely.
Not that I expect
That you will do anything about it.
I just thought you should know.
Where is my mind
And why did it wander away?
Is it so much to ask
To be considered?
Too much to ask
To be respected?
Am I so different
That no one can save me?
Because I need the saving.
God, did you make someone for me
Then forget to send them?
I am wearied
I've been playing this game
For so very long now
If you were going to give me a sign
Please make it rather obvious
This pain and confusion is blinding.
God, I'm lonely.
I just thought you should know.

- Jayme M Yaroch, January 16th, 2010
R J Jan 2018
-page 1
We set a code name in behalf of our mutuality as “jayming”,
Stands for Jayme and jing2, and I love it!
At first, I was so afraid to enter that kind of connection bet us,
But, she make me inspired to go with it,

You are my first and I am so proud of it,
I’m so proud of your characteristics, because of this amount of quantities:
Amount of kindness, intelligent, loving, caring, humble, helpful, and all positive attitude,
I said to myself that, I am so lucky to have this little girl,
Because they have the same characteristics with my mother,
That I can conclude that there is a better future for my own family (w/ her of course).

She said that, she likes me on how a joker I am (but she is not a good joker, she knows it),
And I am happy too to look that smile of her,
That smile makes me wild, wild as lion..aa tiger-chicken .hehe
It make my world so wild, a lot of life, and a full of happiness with God.

My first kiss was so memorable,
I think it already thousand times I remember it, and that memory eats terabyte memory on my mind,
Since lessons, such calculus, theory of structures, and designs eats only 100KB in my memory…
How’s that file? I think it is super HD Movie that I permanently saves in my memory. Forever.

Since the time that she comes in my life, it change from seed to lumber trusses,
Seeds because, I think I am afraid to face the word like to face a lot of people,
That is cover with seed shell that is full of fear and darkness,
And never grows and getting much matured,


But, that time comes,
It makes me from seed to lumber trusses that is so strong to carry the loads,
Loads such as problems, loss of confident to continue my studies, and pressures of being low IQ,
She is the Civil Engineer of my life, hence she design those sizes of lumbers and web member to make me tough,
And for four years, she is also may anti termites that’s serves as temptations to do bad things.

She makes my own History and I can produce a lot of copies of that book as editor.
I titled it “Treasures and Pirates”
Why? She is the Pirate and she took all of my treasure, and that treasures is my heart.
She takes my heart, and as of now, she never took it back.
Jayme Dec 2019
You're an evil fiend, no more than a knave.
Your indifference has dug a deep cold grave,
Six feet beneath where you lay your thoughtless head.
You're an Enchantment Killer, all the world's magic is dead.
Your headboard is my headstone with dragon wings spread.
It bares large, bold carved-out letters painted in ******-red.
  It echos agonizing moans of past torturous sadness you fed,
  And engraved in the stone's cold face, this is what it says;
"Here  Lies  Jayme's  Beaten  And  Broken  Heart."  
  Forgotten­  And  Rotting,
Buried Under Your Bed.

— The End —