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vangouhl Jul 2015
he told me, "put out your cigarette."
i told him, "i just lit it."
he told me, "now."
i told him, "okay."

i asked him, "do i repulse you?"
he told me, "yes."

i asked him, "do i disgust you?"
he told me, "yes."

i asked him, "am i pathetic?"
he told me, "yes."

i asked him, "am i a bad person?"
he told me, "depends on who you ask."

he told me, "hurt me."
i told him, "i can’t."

i told him, "hurt me."
he told me, "easy."

he told me, "i love her."
i told him, "you’re a liar."
he told me, "i love you."
i told him, "you’re a liar."

he told me, "this is wrong."
i told him, "christ, i know."
he told me, "i can’t."
i told him, "pretty baby, i’m yours."
he told me, "you’re disgusting."
he told me, "come here."

he told me, "you’re repulsive."
i told him, "good."

he told me, "you’re disgusting."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "you’re pathetic."
i told him, "i love it."

he told me, "you’re a bad person."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "i want you."
i told him, "take me."

he told me, "*******."
i told him, "please do."

he told me, "**** me."
i told him, "i want it."

i told him, "**** me until i’m not sad anymore."
he told me, "i will."

he told me, "give it to me."
i told him, "here."

he told me, "let me give it to you."
i told him, "give it to me."

he whispered, "baby, you’re such a good girl."
i told him, "let me be your good girl."
he told me, "i want a bad girl."
i told him, "i’ll be bad for you."
i told him, "tell me how you want me and i’ll give it to you."

he asked me, "how bad are you willing to get?"
i told him, "as bad as you want me."

he told me, "you’d do anything i ask, you pathetic *******."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "you need me."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "christ, you’re pitiful."
i told him, "i don’t care."

i asked him, "do you like me like this?"
he told me, "no."
i told him, "you’re lying."
he told me, "i hate it."
i told him, "you love to hate it."

he told me, "you’re the devil."
i told him, "thank you."

he told me, "you and i both know that all you want is my approval."
i told him, "i love it when you’re right."

he told me, "you’re mine, and i’m not yours."
i told him, "i’m yours."

i told him, "i’m disposable."
he told me, "you are."

he told me, "i think you need to get naked."
i told him, "ask me nicely."
he told me, "get naked now."
i told him, "only because you asked me nicely."

he told me, "you’re literally nothing."
i told him, "i’m nothing without you."
he told me, "you’re nothing with me, either."

i told him, "take advantage of me."
he told me, "i already am."

i told him, "tell me you hate me."
he told me, "i hate you."

he told me, "tell me you love me."
i told him, "i love you."

he told me, "i don’t love you."
i told him, "i don’t care."

he told me, "i hate you."
i told him, "i love you."
he told me, "i love you."
i told him, "i hate you."

he told me, "i want you."
i told him, "i know."

i asked him, "how do you want me?"
he told me, "in every way possible."

he told me, "you want it."
i told him, "i know."
he asked me, "how bad?"
i told him, "you know."
he told me, "tell me."
i told him, "more than anything."

he asked me, "why is everything with you ****** now?"
i told him, "probably because there’s nothing else left."

he told me, "i don’t like it."
i asked him, "what do you like?"

i told him, "you like who i used to be."
he told me, "i do."

he asked me, "what happened to the girl you were?"
i told him, "she’s dead."
he asked me, "what happened to you?"
i told him, "i’m dead."

he told me, "get your ******* **** together."
i asked him, "why bother?"

he told me, "this is pitiful."
i told him, "i know."

he told me, "leave."
i told him, "no."

he told me, "you’re a wreck."
i told him, "****, i know."

he told me, "goodbye."
i told him, "okay."
i hate this poem.
filed under: but jesus christ, i've become so pathetic
What if my worst nightmare comes true?
What if I become what I most fear?
What then?
Do I end all, destroy all hopes of any kind of future and bring hundreds down with me?
Or do I embrace it, face the fear and ridicule and mockery and shame and embarrassment and the myriad of voices laughing, crying, screaming,
You told me you were glad
I had taken a chance on you
You told you would love
To have me at your house
You told me to feel free
To stay as long as I wanted
You told me I could be your friend
Only if you could be mine
You told me you would be there
Whenever I needed someone to talk to
***** data roaming
You told me to shout really loudly
If I could not reach you another way
You told me I wasn't a fool but if I was
I was your kind of fool
You told me you couldn't believe I couldn't dance
Because we were the best dancing partners
You told me that if you brought the best in me
Then the best was pretty ****** amazing
You told me it was hard being us
Always so awesome
You told me you liked having me there
In the same bed as you
You told me the both of us
Made a pretty good team
You told me you did not intend on stopping
Talking to me, laughing with me
You told me you would teach me anything
How to cuddle and whatever I wanted
You told me you would take me to the beach
Because I had not yet been
You told me you would take me to do something fun
Whenever I would get some free time
You told me we made a great team…
… Unless we were playing Monopoly
You told me you would come and try the cheese nan
If I came and tried your fondue
You told me you liked staying up
Just so you could talk to me
You told me you were glad you took the ferry
To meet me a universe away
You told me we would make a perfect team
I could be the olive skinned French beauty, and you the eternal white Englishman
You told me I was too lovely
You told me you would come and get me
Even if you had to walk to get to me
You told me you wanted to go to Venice
And asked me if I wanted to join you.

You told me so many beautiful things and for that I am so grateful
You made me smile so many times
You made me happy every day
For a while
Then you forgot I was alive but I still have the memories of us
In my mind, next to the could have been drawer
Where all the things we could have done, could have been,
Lay still in silence.
You told me so many beautiful things and I
Believed them all.
You made me believe I could fall again.
You broke my heart but you made me believe,
And for the next one who will come along
I will open my heart wide open
Because you made me believe I could,
Love again.
But really, all I want is for you to make me fall again. Catch me this time. Hold my hand and kiss my jaw and never hurt me agai
Sam Conrad Dec 2013
So I've got this story...
And it goes a little something like this-

There's a girl that I hurt really bad on way too many occasions that I love more than anything. Pretty much everything I write on here is about her. She became the love of my life, and I told myself she was the one I wanted to spend my life with. Except I was a ****. She was going somewhere to an event that lasted 2 weeks and was really important to her and let's just say I ****** it all up really really bad. She made a lot of friends there and it was a great experience for her, kind of like camp is for some people, how boy/girl scouts are for some people, and she learned a lot there, and had lots of fun too. I was so horrible to do what I did.

At least we're young though, and there's still time to grow...right? I'm only 18, she's almost 18, and we both have lives to live ahead of us. I feel like I need her though. She treated me perfectly in our relationship. I mean, looking back, there's nothing I can fault her for, at all. I just got ****** at stupid crap that doesn't even matter.

Except, she's into somebody else now and probably thinks I'm no good for her. She doesn't talk to me anymore. Anyway, I'm rambling, I haven't gone to bed, I took a bunch of pills, am getting sick, and it's 7 here goes. This story is somewhat censored, though.

"The Worst Weeks of Our Lives"

I met this girl and she became the love of my life. She took me places I'd never gone before and her and I fell in love like some people wouldn't believe. Ask my friends. Ask her friends. No, her friends probably wouldn't admit to it anymore. But I choose to remember the things they said. Kids were like totally rooting for us all day every day. We were so perfect. It was great.

So with a few mistakes here and there, (mostly me...all me, really) we realized we weren't perfect. But it didn't hamper out love. Nobody is perfect, right? We realized that. Overcame.

But then, we went too far. Her parents drew lines we weren't supposed to cross. Oopsies. Her mom really put me in my place. I'll just leave it at that. Asked me when my 18th birthday was, so she could mark her calendar as the "day she could touch me". Told me I was a liar. Husband in the background drunk and screaming, as usual. Except screaming "that ***** ain't sorry. He ain't ******* sorry, ******* ******* marking up my ******* daughter I can show him how to be ******* sorry"

Lots more. I'll go crazy if I speak the rest. It was a hickey on her neck. We didn't do much more.

I got really scared. I mean, they were brutal. I wasn't used to that kind of brutal. Psychotic levels of brutal. All of the sudden I became numb. I stopped being so intimate with my girlfriend. They told me not to come around their house anymore. I started doubting myself. If I was any good for her. She cried and cried. Told me how sorry she was. For getting us in trouble, and for what her parents did. But it wasn't her fault. After all, I am the vampire that bit her neck.

After a few weeks, her parents dropped it completely. I didn't though. I was so traumatized. I'd been getting flashbacks. Nightmares. So scared, I was. I kept avoiding her, not only her parents. I mean, I didn't have a car anyways, so the only place I could go to see her was at her house. She reassured me I was allowed. But with no contact with her parents since the phone call that changed my life I was reluctant.

This was around 2 months before she was going to go to a 2 week event. A special event to her. One I'd even wished I'd gotten involved in. Really, I did wish. I just missed the application deadline. Throughout the next two months, we grew more and more distant. I was harsh on her. I hurt her. I'd get mad at her and then call her and talk to her until 3 in the morning. I made her hate herself, and then she felt bad about me feeling sorry too. "You always force yourself to be nice to me just so I feel better, but I'm ****, I'm trash, I'm nothing, I'm so sorry" she would say. Most of the time, she didn't even do anything wrong. One of my best friends died at the same time her parents killed me inside, I spent all my days sleeping and crying and when I wasn't doing that, I was getting angry at her (and quickly regretting it), manufacturing conflicts that were completely unnecessary. Not to mention I'd had health issues, and my parents kicked me out of my house a few months beforehand.

In the time before she left to her special event, I really tore her up. I said the dumbest things I've ever said to someone in my life. I'd never even said such dumb things to even an object, or myself. Why I would say them to a girl who saved me from suicide (I was very unstable and depressed when coming out of a bad relationship, and getting kicked out of home) and why I said it all to someone I wanted to spend my life with I'll never know.

The dumbest things I'll ever say to anything that breathes in my lifetime. I told her one night that the "only reason I was still with her was because if I left she'd hurt herself" (she had a history of self harm, even though she's the sweetest girl I've ever met) and another night I told her "If only she were going somewhere important I'd understand" and lots of other insensitive and selfish things that I can't even believe came out of my mouth. I mean, the whole basis of it was that her and I hadn't spent much time together (really because of my own selfish fears) and I was going all *** on her testosterone-fueled-rage style for days over and over and over.

Don't I sound like a horrible person? I was. I was horrible to her. As much as I hate to say it, I'll probably make similar mistakes again someday - It's like relapsing - but I'll make every effort I can to learn from my horrible past and never be that person again.

So when she went to the event, I was with my grandparents out of state and I downloaded my favorite sad playlist (Staind, great band) to listen to on the trip.

Yes, seriously. I told her that stuff and called her event unimportant and then I went away too. How stupid I was for what I said. I should have been slapped or something.

A day or two after I'd left, I realized how stupid it was of me. For the whole thing. That whole time. That whole span, those two months where I not only neglected her, but emotionally ****** her.

There's a song called "Tangled Up In You" that has the most wonderful and intimate lyrics and I listened to it and sung to it over and over and over late into the morning (I'm talking 3-4 in the morning) every night for like 10 days and along with a song called "Right Here" by the same band. I cried myself to sleep so extremely ashamed of what I'd just done to her.

I knew I was wrong, but what I didn't know was that she was crying her eyes out wrapped up in (someone else)'s arms at that event...
I didn't know she was getting all kinds of love and support.
I had no idea...not that it was bad, it was good because she needed it.

But it got her to thinking about me, what kind of person I was.
When we both got back, I started making more of an effort to spend time with her and go out of my way to talk to her, make her happy, and basically, stop being such a ****.
Except she just got confused and conflicted because she was numb and falling out of love, because I was nothing that anyone should love, to her, over that prior time.

Her mom broke us up about a month later, after know what, I'll just leave that bit out...
I told you how the first phone call went. The phone calls I got from her and her husband in the end were just so much worse. I don't even want to think about them. I went into convulsions and kept dropping the phone.

I went back to these two songs to help keep my sanity and I belted out "Tangled Up In You" every day in my car... so loud I was losing my voice.

I'd had some communication with her, surprised her at her work one night, bought her flowers, wrote her my true feelings on some napkins, showed up when she got out of school one day, when she was deathly afraid, and surprised her with a smile and drew a heart on her hand...

Her and I were on the same page. She still loved me. She was just hurt. I still loved her. I was just trying to make up for the compromised mental state I spent so much time in. I had compromised hers too. I needed to get her out of it. She told me she would wait for me. That we were in a speed bump, that it would all be okay.

So some weeks passed, a month, and she still had my back. As strong as ever. Her parents found out I bought the flowers. They found out I'd been talking to her. But...

Knowing she still had my back, that she still loved me, and that she would wait for me...she called what her mom did (in breaking us up, in our break) a "speed bump"...I was okay with it. I mean, I really wanted to be a part of her life, but man, her parents HATED ME! (In retrospect, probably with good reason. Shame on me for the things I did to her. Really.)

We had some major issues (mostly due to my inability to shut my stupid mouth) and I decided that maybe some time to ourselves to focus on ourselves and think was a good thing. She could focus on loving herself again and I could focus on becoming a better person.

I mean, when her parents found out her and I were still talking to each other after they broke us up, they blocked my number on her phone, went to my church and made up extra stories to my pastor, (told him I'd came and banged on their door at one in the morning one night), when I called to apologize to them they didn't pick up, called me back later to cuss me out and hang up on me, logged into their daughters facebook account and blocked me, then told their daughter that I had called them when she was sleeping and cussed them both out, and that she was to have nothing to do with me again. They threatened legal action against me, too. Tried to make my life hell. They didn't want me around their daughter, ever again. A blind rage that went on for a very long time until every communication route was blocked.

She went to school and told her friends the false stories her parents told her, and her friends already didn't like me...I mean just look at what I had done wasn't good. Not for me, anyway. Also her. She felt duped. Used. By her parents. She didn't know who to trust or what was real. Everyone was telling her how horrible I was.

I got a chance to talk to her one day. We talked for hours, face to face. Sat in the cold and talked. It was an amazing talk. We caught each other up completely on our lives. We talked about our love. Our past. Our emotions. All of them. Good and bad. But we told each other we'd always love each other. She stuck by me, and also reassured me that she always would. I left that conversation feeling so secure. The most I'd felt since way before I'd become a total **** to her. When her and I were so deep in love.

She's always wanted to go far away from college. She told me stories of her past and what her parents did to her, what she did to herself that were not good. Not good at all. She wanted to get away from her parents.

Meanwhile I was so caught up in the feelings she gave me when I was in her arms, I almost couldn't handle the fact that she wanted to leave. I pleaded for her to stay, in a time that her and I were both unstable and it was already taboo that we were even on the same property. But still, she said "she wanted to stay" because her and I work so well together...when we work together, that is, and I and her were both determined to work together. I told her I would do anything for her. In all of it though, I told her that the decision was in her hands and I would still love her the same if she left, and that I would wait for her. Because I loved her more than anything.

After that talk, things got quiet. I guess, too quiet. I was legally bound to stay away from her. I talked to someone she worked with and asked them to tell her hello for me. I thought though, we were on good terms following the talk, I thought she'd be elated to hear from me.

She never responded.

One day, a couple weeks later, she told me I really needed to get over her. That she didn't love me like that anymore. She told me she'd been falling out of love since the summer, and she'd gone crazy and needed space. She said she wanted to be friends, but no relationship. No relationship anymore. She said she couldn't handle it. She said she couldn't handle a relationship in general.

She made that message a bit accusatory. I'd been talking to two friends, one who I'd known for years and a new one I'd just made. Both overlapping friends with hers. Those two helped keep me sane.

She started that message with "I heard you've been messaging my friends, and to be honest, I haven't had the heart to message you back." She repeated multiple times that I needed to get over her. She told me that it wasn't anyone else's influence too. She even listed people. People who'd separated us. Hurt me. Hurt her, in a way, but encouraged her in others.

At the same time, she blocked me on facebook again. She had unblocked me when she found out her parents did it for her. Odd though...I thought she wanted to be friends. I mean, it was like the only way I was able to have her in my life at all. To read her facebook posts and her read mine. To have discussions with friends. We have a lot of overlapping friends.

Man, she killed me. One second I thought she was my soul mate and the next I was in the bathroom puking my guts out because she was telling me we'd never be together again.

So fast forward to today...I still love her. And she's basically in a relationship with someone else. She's also either on the fence about her sexuality, or decided she doesn't like boys anymore. I feel bad about that too. Its like I ruined male relationships for her. It's only been a few weeks since she told me I needed to get over her. She doesn't talk to me anymore. I go to high school events even though I graduated last year just to see her. When I don't approach her, she ignores me. I'm just another person in the room. When I do approach her, she has such a scared look on her face. She doesn't want to talk to me, but she can't be mean to me. She's falling in love with someone else and she's getting happier. She doesn't need me showing up everywhere just to depress her.

Yet I keep bothering her. Because I'm a sucker for her. I can't help it. I love her. I want her to be my future. But at this point I'm grasping at straws. So hard. I shouldn't be trying anymore. But I'll end up trying until the day I die. And only then will I stop believing in her and I. I know it's a pipe dream. But I'll hold onto it. Because it's the only thing I have left of myself now.

Last night, (I mean, right before I wrote this around 5 AM, it is now 8 AM) I played those two songs again. I forgot they were at the end of my playlist and I started shivering and crying my eyes out. I got chills. I got so cold. The tears just ran. They ran down my face faster than I've cried in a long, long time.

I'm only okay right now because I took a bunch of pills. Pills that have this kind of effect on me. They make me kind of numb. Kind of happy. Upper and downer both.

That's pretty much, my sad ending to a sad story.
I'm living the kind of life that only people like Shane Koyczan know how to explain to people.

Ironically, she loves Shane Koyczan.
I do too.
We grew up in broken homes and lived broken lives until we found each other.
Then we broke each other.

But she's falling for someone else, because I wasn't what I should have been to her, and she knows
But she doesn't believe in me anymore, the way I believe in her...because I wasn't what I should have been to her, and she can't hold onto me when I'm a 50/50 chance, of bringing her down again.
If only she would let me hug her again, kiss her one more time...I could die happy, knowing I poured all my heart and soul out into that last kiss.
But I'm a gamble. And she can't put her heart out on the line for someone who wasn't always good to her. She used to call me her "sweet boy" and she still tells me I'll always be her "sweet boy", but the fact of the matter is, it doesn't cut it to only be sweet s
I needed to write this. I've been going crazy. I told her I needed to talk to her but she's been avoiding me. If she reads this, I know its hard for her. There are more explanations I need to give her, I hope she will let me speak to her someday. I've found out a lot about myself in just the last few weeks. Stuff I don't talk about in this story. To you, my dear...if you read this, I'm sorry. I know it's tough. Its very tough. But look at the positive, dear. I'll keep living. Maybe I'll be okay someday. Your happiness is what matters to me. If you're happy, I'll keep myself going. I'm going to go to sleep now. Finally, I have some peace.
Jessie Nov 2013
When we first began dating, I was using you to get over someone else.
I never told you because you would have gotten upset, you lovely hypocrite.
I even kissed someone else while we were still dating, and it has disgusted me ever since.
I never told you because you would have never spoken to me again.
Before your growth spurt, I lied when we both agreed that you were definitely taller.
I never told you at the time that I was 5'3" and you were 5'2".
I never told you I always looked for the triangle of dots on your neck. Every ******* time.
I did not like your best friend.
I never told you he reminded me of a sociopath, because he was one of the biggest influences in your life.
And all of your favorite songs at the time.
I never told you I went home and put all of them on my iPod, just so I could impress you with how well I knew the words.
When I started crying after our first time having ***, I wanted you to just forget it, I was fine.
I never told you I was crying because I had realized I loved you, and it made me feel free.
I never told you this, because I'm not sure you would understand what I mean when I say 'free.'
One time, we were in bed and you were looking so **** peaceful with your eyes closed, and I took a picture.
I never told you.
I never told you I was actually awake when you thought I wasn't, when you whispered into the phone, when you whispered you wanted to marry me someday.
I never told you I once had a dream about what our kid would look like.
I never told you about the night I counted all the tears that leaked out of me because of you. Twenty seven.
No, I was definitely not okay with him watching, but I never told you that.
I never told you that I was scared to speak up because I was terrified of losing you.
I never told you to grow up.
I never told you what I found out.
I threw my necklace you gave me into the lake, and I never told you.
I never told you how easy it was to fit into your warmth.
And how easy it was to fall out.
I never told you that I still think about you at the worst times.
I guess I never told you a lot of things.
Theresa M Rose Oct 2018
This is chapter one; your opinions  are a blessing?!

As Obliteration Comes...

What is there to think of a man who goes, so far, out of his way in the destruction of the woman who loves him; Years beyond the assault she could not, would not speak about… a woman, … within her devastation tries to dissociate and desperately tries to make it… not be?!  Of this day…, she tells no-one; … only those there knew, they were there in the aftermath and saw. There at the place she’s works and holds a different name;  a place where she could not report  to police…, not without turning her world inside out, a destruction which becomes impossible to avoid?! Considering such a thing leaves behind evidence of its unspoken crime. Unknowing all … He hates her for acts of duplicity; as if she’d want any other than he, who owns her heart?!
The day
I know Denise’s men; for the most-part, their ******* Freaks! I’d never normally go near any of them?! But, this man had pleasant eyes; I knew Denise was going to be in before I leave… so I sat with him.
He tells me he and Denise know each-other through my other Agent, Lisa; I worked with more than one agent, AI-Talent and Top Entertainers Talent Agency all for my NY, Conn. and NJ gigs. I had Lisa for all gigs at after-hours and for those long-distance clubs.    
(Lisa’s the agent which was going to give me up to the Rode Island police, when we were all on the way home from a four week gig we did in Boston’s Pussycat’s Lounge. An unforgettable time to say the least ;)

Kal walks over around 3:30 and whispers “Denise is a no-show tonight could you stay until her replacement gets here?”

What, as-if I would say no?
It was one extra set and I would be out of here at 5pm!
” No problem! But, I need to be out of here by five?!”

“Janice, cool! Callie lives on the other end of the Market; she said she’ll cab it down!” Kal looks relieved.

  But as it goes with Denise’s friend; he was, to say the least, miffed!
“Denise told me to be here! Why…? If she wasn’t going…”  
I tell him, “If Denise told you to be here? She’ll stop by later or she’ll send someone in to get you! Right?”
He orders me another drink; he stews about where Denise could be…; Meanwhile, Denise’s replacement is nowhere to be found?!
It’s now 6pm?!
“There’s no-way, no way in hell, I’ll make it out to Rockaway’s by 8pm!” thinking to myself …, ‘I can’t be late?! I’ve never been late!’
“This is not my day!?”
Denise’s friend turns to me and says,” I’ll drop you down at the train; Hell, I’m going down to midtown; the hell with waiting for Denise! So, if you can use a ride down to the city?”
As he says this Callie flies through the door.

As you know; I’m an *******!  I was totally elated thinking of the possibility about being out there with Joe by 9- 9:30! ‘He’s saying he can get me down to the A train and from there… One straight run! Oh, Baby!’
What a ******* *******; I’d never… I wasn’t thinking.

“That’s so nice of you; thank you!” Stupidly, “You have no idea; Let me go in the back and get my stuff!”
I never before..; “You can’t know how much this helps me out! Thank you! “      

   I tell Kal he’s was giving me the ride.  Kal smiles, “Thanks man! She’s a good girl… take care of her! “
He takes my bags to carry them outside for me; It was so bright outside. After a seven hour long day of being inside drinking with that pounding music and those pulsating lights; the outdoors seem so foreign?! I look to see where his car was parked?
He laughs saying, “I put it in the lot across the street! Willey’s lot was full when I got here.”

Still thanking him for driving me downtown while crossing over Hunts Point Avenue; we reach his car he opens his back door to place my bags on the seat… fumbling the bags one of them falls to the ground. I remember hearing his laughter as I bent over to get my bag; all the bags were flying towards me!? Before, I could… I …   the back of my head hit the edge of the door… my bags were on top of me … and all the weight? I try but couldn’t make a sound! I was in the back of his car. All my bags moving, cutting into me and him pressing down; …clawing, pawing all over! My bags cutting into my skin; His arm pressing against my chest!  I heard, “Don’t… **** … Die!”   I couldn’t feel… Breathe? And; Snap! …Blackness.    
Then, I remember… falling!? I was…. a body empty nothing-more as it’s pushed out the door and hits gravel! Bags slam hard onto…, all of what remains left of it.  
There’s sound of an engine? There’s shower of gravel? Car-horns are heard blaring in the distance; still breathing.  
I’m not sure how…??? I pick stuff off the ground. My mind’s numb, thinking all I could… I need home to clean this… I’ll make it gone??? I’ll make it… not have happened!’
I took a cab from *****’s; All the way from the South Bronx! I still don’t remember that time to my home; I only remember getting out of the second cab, The Rockaway’s Play-land; I remember watching for the A-train to go by… thinking; ‘I’ll tell Joe I took the train out. He’ll never know… he can’t?! He told me not to go; he told me to be out here with him to meet his friend. This is my fault.’ The head’s not… Hide, it didn’t happen just forget the last twenty-four hours?! I turn the corner and walk down the block towards the bungalow; he was there.
‘He’ll leave you; it’s your fault you went to work; he told you not to go… No, nothing happened?! He loves me? I love him!!! Nothing happened!’
When he saw me? He didn’t even ask anything about my not having all my bags? I always carry my three extra large duffels and a pocketbook?
I walk in the yard with only money in my pants and not even one bag?
If I were here straight from work and had left the club when I suppose to off I’d been here no later than 8pm?
I show up ten moments to four in the morning, without bags and he doesn’t say a thing about it; not even a single word about this long-sleeve shirt covering my cuts and bruises?
He smiles; he tells me his friend’s still sleeping but when he wakes-up we’ll all go to breakfast. His friend comes out and we sat and talked for a few moments. Joe hadn’t notice but his friend asks me if I was alright: I said, “Yeah hadn’t eaten all day; Joe says we’re going out for food. His friend took his car and Joe and I met him there. The whole time sitting there in the Crossbay Diner with his friend I kept thinking;
‘If Joe and I were with each other it would be as if nothing happened? It will be it never happen?! That’s what I need to do!? I’ll be fine. Everything… fine.’
  After breakfast his friend got into his car and left;
Joe says he needs to head home to get some rest later-on he’s taking his mom, Rose, out to her other son’s house.
And, he says he’ll come for me once he drops her off… and we’ll go to the place underneath the Throgs-neck bridge  
How hard it was…
Joe parks and takes out his jug of ***** and grapefruit then begins talking? He’s talking???
As if there wasn’t …?  Like nothing happened… nothing??? He was simply sitting there saying something about Vincent and Helga???
“They’re going to drive mom home!”
He’s smiles? Saying, “They’ll take mom home from their house so we can stay here as long as we want!”
Every time he tries reaching for that jug or reaches out to put his hands on me…; I’d jump!?   I felt my skin crawling; there was a bubbling sensation all over in every last place that was touched; I felt my skin as if it going to burst out with blisters of poison! I needed to get home!? I need to wash this..!? I need not to have his hands touch… This thing I was???
‘He touches me, so help me God, I’ll open this car and run and throw myself into that water! I was shaking, I was sitting on the arm-rest of the door and I began yelling!? “Take Me Home! “
“You son of a …!  Can‘t you see; Can‘t you see!”
“I need home! I don‘t feel well!? “
“You, *******!  Get me home!”
No Clue. Still, He’s clueless to any difference??? He yells back at me, “What’s your problem?  You on the rag or something?”
He drove me home.  I open the door before he could try to park and I run inside; I locked myself into the bathroom. By time I was out the sun was up!

The phone begins ringing.  It’s Kelli Ann, “Sometime last night my grandma, Rose, died. “
I dropped the phone. My sister got on… with Kelli.
I just stood there numb; thinking how…
‘Dear God! Joe and I were at the bridge!  
If I told him what happened he would have been with her.”
He would have left me; But, He would have been with Rose?

Rose was the most amazing person to me; I adore her, I denied her… and I stopped him from being with her.
‘I didn’t want to lose him; I couldn’t see losing me again?!
And, I made it so he wasn’t there… for her.’
All the times he’s walked away from me, so many times; He’d say nothing and show up at the house with some girl.
And introduce her to the family; that was his way telling me just how important I was… That was his way of telling me he didn’t want me. And, I would stand there… act as if it wasn’t a big deal… ‘It must be nice… no feelings?’
But then after a while he would come back; It be like none of them knew a thing?! Yeah, not even what I did for a living?! When asked, what I did for a living, I’d tell them; I work as a Entertainment Manager for bars throughout the Tri-State area; Yeah right; I was entertaining and I did Manage… (I manage to get to and from my gigs and I was entertainment!) So, it’s not complete truth or lie. And, HELL, Joe can’t think too poorly of what I do; after-all it was his idea?!

It’s only three days before his birthday and here’s Joe having to make the arrangements for Rose’s ( his mother’s) wake; He turns to me and says,” My mom had these spills often before..; But, she’d always come back to me! I’d hold her hand and I’d call to her!  I wish I had been out by Vincent’s. She maybe…. Maybe she’d still be here with us.”
I felt… numb.
That night we were all at the wake;
I hover in doorways watching every person go in than back out again. I kept looking at Joe; I didn’t know why, but my mind, I wish it was him in that **** box. Isn’t that sick!  As much as I love Rose I’d wish her son could trade places??? How that would have been unbearable for Rose and yet…
The biggest reason Joe and I kept our being together a secret was her; She was by no means the only… not by a long-shot!  But, she was a most important reason. I could have never dealt with even a thought of her hating me for loving her son; I fear… loss; now, she’s gone. I love her; I want her back! I want her to know; I want to tell her! She never knew… he’s her grandchild? She’ll never know now.  Here knowing…, seeing everyone around feeling this loss for Rose; because of me… she might have still been here…? Only if…?
Thoughts, ‘My life is imploding; it’s all moving in slow motion. I don’t know how far… I don’t know if… I’ll survive this… this time? ’ I cling to straws; I can’t lose Joe; I can’t make my sister leave home? She’ll never make it on her own; I can’t tell Joe what happened? Then he’ll know all of this, everything, is my fault?!  I stopped him from being with Rose when she needed him most.
What if he’s to ask about little Joe…? With the way he feels about my sister? I never gave him an opportunity to ask out-right if he’s his before; it wasn’t me who told him. When I let him know I was having a baby I told him,” You could be the godfather?! He agreed to that… He didn’t ask, he didn’t want to know; and I couldn’t ever take the chance… Not then, not now; He’ll take my child away; He’ll take him and leave me?! I’ll have nothing I’ll be…?!
Say nothing; …perform as you go; Stay in survival mode!

The day of the burial:  We went to church and everybody goes up to the front. I didn’t know where to sit? None of the family told me where…?  Then, Kay Young, a neighbor and friend of my mother’s pulls me over and says to sit in the last row near her; so that’s what I did. Afterwards, when we were all outside someone told me to get into a car; a car which turns-out to be Lynne’s car!? Lynne and Kelli together were the ones who made it that Joe found out about the baby.
Thoughts, ‘… imploding; It’s all moving slowly… don’t know how far… or if I’ll survive, All this … this time? ’

After my son was born Lynne was the one who told Joey that others are saying little Joe was his… Joe wouldn’t ask me if he was the father and I was more than glad not to tell him! Yes, I know it’s extremely selfish; but I couldn’t risk losing another one. But, if I did I would have turned Joe’s life upside down for nothing.    
(My Joe was a preemie; barely six months along when he was born. My tiny baby boy needed to stay in a hospital from June 6 until Aug. 31st.. )  
It was June;  
We, a whole crew of us, were out at Rockaway‘s;
Kelli Ann and Lynne were making drinks and I had maybe five big drinks in those 20 oz. cups. To say I was blotto is beyond an understatement!

The two of them get going; they were told and they know that my baby was Joe’s; And, I have to tell him!

“I don’t know what you girls are talking… You’re wrong! Leave it alone!”  
“Everyone knows how you feel about him!?”
“What? Leave this alone! You don’t know what you’re talking…”  
“You’re going to have to tell him….?”
“Leave this alone; this is none of you business and you haven’t any idea of what you’re talking about!”  
“If you don’t tell him I will!”
“I’m telling the two of you to leave the man alone!”
“Well, he needs; he has a right to know!”  
I got up and say, “Apparently, I do need to talk to him about something? Don’t I?!

I turn to go find Joey! I need to talk to him about what Lynne and Kelli are saying to me…??? There, in mid-turn, I slap in face into his chest; Joe’s standing there hearing every word of what was being said.
He yells at me; saying, ”What… This is ******-up!”
I start crying; I run towards the beach! Thinking, How am I going to tell him? How can I say I couldn’t tell you, I could trust you! How do you say to the man you love that you left him to believe he wasn’t… because having this baby means more than he does; And, if he knew he was the father when he was told about the baby he would have just been another person, in this life, trying to stop this baby from being born. I lost too many; He’s mine! No-one’s taking him from me. Not even his father.  How do you say this…  
I went up to the bench on the boardwalk; I would always sit in that same spot; I was crying.  
Joe comes up behind me;
He says,” What are you going to do now? **** yourself!?”

I didn’t try looking at him; I just spoke holding my tears, ” No…, You’re not worth that!”
A long time passes as the two of us stare out at the surf.
He said,” So…?”

Painfully, I remind him his words he told me, at Christmas time, when we first…;
“Joe, do you remember, what you said to me? The very first time I told you how much I love you? Do you remember?  Joe, you told me, “Don’t!”  
Then you told me, “You’re just for now?! No attachments! Remember?”    

Joey turns and goes back to the bungalow; He gathered up his stuff, takes Lynne and leaves. He wouldn’t speak to me again until mid-October after, I got little Joe back after my mother and my grandfather kidnapped him.
When I got my baby back his stomach… There was something wrong? Every time I try to give him his milk it wasn’t staying down in his tiny body?!
I was so frightened; I saw Rose outside the house and I ran-up to her for help; she goes downstairs with the baby and gets out baby cereal she mixed it with the baby-milk?
“Rose? The doctors told me I’m not to give the baby anything but the baby-milk?”
Rose said, “Don’t worry; I’ve seen this before… Don’t you get scared?”

She force-fed Joey some of mix and in moments the baby threw-up every drop of what Rose gave him; she cleans him up and shoves the bottle of plain baby-milk into his mouth; He was drinking it on his own!
She tells me the baby’s stomach was shut-down. She says, “Sometimes baby’s go through this failure to thrive when there’s too much turmoil around them. But, this little guy here is alright now.” She hands him to me and says, “Now, He has his Mama.”
Joe came down stairs from his room he must have heard the yelp I made as the baby threw-up the cereal-mixture.
Rose saved the baby’s life that day, her grandbaby.
And, now, I’m sitting in this *****’s Lynne’s car; I’m going to say goodbye to dearest woman I ever knew… ‘I wish it was me going into that hole.
Later, we all went to eat out at a place on the Blvd and then the family came back home. We stayed up late and Joe’s brother from Florida with his wife and their two kids went upstairs. They bunked-down in Rose’s living room and Joe and I were down the basement in the kitchen. We finish cleaning the dishes and he tells me to come with him to his room;
“They will sleep ‘til three; Both, Butchy and Sandy have been drinking since seven this morning.”
I went with him; I felt so numb. I belong to him; I love him. I just need to let this happen then everything will be the way it’s…I am his.

I kept saying, “My Love, I belong to you! I need you! I love you! Joe, you are everything to me!  You are my life! My head kept whispering” You didn’t stop it; you allowed another to take what belongs to Joe.
You are nothing.
I kept repeating to Joe, “I belong to you Always, I’m yours.” I kept saying the words over and over to him; I didn’t want to stop telling him, I am his…
When he fell asleep and I was sure he was asleep; I got up and slipped out of his room. Sandy caught me leaving his room; I saw her and I stood there like a deer in headlights!
Sandy just asked, “Is he still up in there?”
I said, “No.” and, I went fast out the door and ran home.
I need to check on my sister and my son; I didn’t want Joe’s brother or any of the rest of the family getting any notions. Running into Sandy as I left Joe’s room scared the hell out of me! But, she was … Sandy didn’t remember seeing me. She says she doesn’t remember anything after she ate dinner down-stairs.
That was the last time him and me…              
Joe was pretty busy while the out-of-towners’ were stopping by and with all the paperwork needed to be done…  I just hung-out with Kelli; I figure, when he’s not too busy he’ll talk to me.
It was a few weeks after that night; Joe comes up stairs where Kelli and I were; he asked Kelli to leave us alone.

He handed me all the papers he was holding for me and told me,” Don’t you ever talk to me again! You are a nothing; do you hear me? A nobody! You’re a worthless ***** and I don’t want to ever have to look at you again!”
Then, he went down and locked the door, hard.  
Kelli Ann comes back in and asks why he’s acting like that towards me; I told her, I don’t know?  And, I didn‘t?! I didn’t until nearly two months later when I went to the doctors; then, I knew.
I have gone back to work; But, I will never go back up to *****’s!
I met-up with Denise a few days after I went back to work; we were both at the Golden Dollar; she was just leaving as I’m walking in…  She slaps $350.into my hand saying, “Thanks for taking care of my friend! Gotta’run!” She’s out the door before I could tell her what happen to me wasn’t, by any means, by chose.
Time passes; it’s now, nearing my birthday; I’m hearing about how Joe’s spending his time with Lynne; So, I decide I to write a letter to Kelli. I could stop kelli from mistreating Joe, for what wasn’t ever Joe’s choice in the first place, and I can stop Joe from being convinced into taken my child away from me by that *****, Lynne.
Joe wants to be with that… that’s his business; she thinks the two them will take my child? Not that *****!  That ***** won’t ever get to put her hands on my child! After what she did on June 4th and 28th and so many other times… With his wanting to be with her it makes it a whole lot easier for me to feel a deep disgust towards him. Joe thought me to be such a no-body; he thinks me so cheap… He left me months ago unaware… in pain and he thinking I would want…
  Fine, two birds’ one stone?!   I don’t want her mistreating him for our not being together… It’s not his fault I went to work; but if he’s going to try at any point to come and take little Joe away?! I can’t let that to ever happen!
I wrote Kelli a letter saying his in no way my child’s father and for her to stop mistreating him like he had done something wrong his mother has died and you are being nasty to him. I can’t be friends with you anymore I have too much in my life I need to take care of my son and my sister and I told her I hope the best for her in her life. I wrote… using six pages of words but this is the full gist of it.
I thought if some day things are different and he and I find our way back to one another again; Kelli would have a chance to confront me in front of him about the letter and I’d be able to ask Joe for a signed a waiver of parental rights and then I could ask him to have a DNA test done. But for now, my son will remain where he belongs…with me.

How it is that all this started; why must this be...
ann Nov 2014
I told my doctor how when I get really upset I see clouds.
I told her that it looks like someone chain-smoked a whole pack of cigarettes in the time it took me to blink.
She told me she can't explain it.
She told me I need glasses.
I told her I need new medication, that these ones aren't working anymore.
She told me that I'm not letting them.

She told me that depression comes in waves.
And if I stop fighting them, they'll come and go with ease.  
She told me to build a raft.
I told her I don't know how.

I don't know how to tell her that I'm drowning.  
I don't know how to tell her that these "waves" have turned into rip tides and now I'm so far out that I'm lost at sea.  

Excuse me miss, but how do you build a raft when you're never on shore?

She told me I need to start exercising; I guess water aerobics aren't enough.
I told her that I can't breathe.
She told me I might have asthma.
I told her water must have filled my lungs.

I told her that I used to identify as the calm before the storm.
But now I'm a category 5 hurricane.
I told her I've got winds up to 250 mph.
But I still can't find air.

And I'm sorry, Miss Meteorologist, but land won't slow me down.

I told her that I have and will destroy everything in my path.
She told me that now that I've hit land, I can pick up the debris and build a raft.
I told her I'd try.

She told me hello and asked how my raft is coming along.
I told her that my craftsmanship is sub-par.
I told her that the clouds were back.
I told her that she's the reason I can't look at water without it running down my face.
Lefa Mzondi Mar 2019
I'm looking for that person who told you it's okay to slaughter a cow but not a cat
And who told you slaughtering a goat was evil
Who told you that only cows and sheep should be eaten
That person who told you cow milk was "healthier" than your moms breast milk
Who told you the Bible was superior to the Quran
Who told you Silasi, Buddha, Mahommed, Krishna & Christ were different
Who said African ancestors were evil and English ones weren't

I'm looking for that person who told you mordern medicine was better/different from traditional medicine
Who told you cannabis was a drug
Who told you English was a sign of intelligence, and illiteracy shown you were 'stupid'
Who told you education makes you wise

I want that person who told you being 18 means you're old enough to vote, drink, get married, etc Why not 13?
Who told you a woman's place is in the kitchen and a man's in the garden
Who told you that you have to wear specific type of clothes

And who the hell told you white skin was better looking than melanin?
The person who told you you gotta bleach your beautiful melanin skin, burn you hair, speak a foreign language, to fit in
Who told you my dreadlocks were 'unprofessional' and untidy, and your silky hair wasn't?
Give me that person who told you "thick" was better than "skinny"
Who told you big bums are sign of beauty

I want the person who told you 'traditional' wedding is not legal but 'white' is
That person who told young people it's Okay to respect elders
Who told them it's okay to disrespect tradition
And that person who told you you can't change tradition

I want that person who took your ability to think for yourself
Wo took your ability to reason, research, read

Bacause all I see is a lot of dead fish flowing with the river
I've been betrayed. 
I've been made afraid. 
I've been cut apart. 
I've been deprived of my heart. 
I've been thrown over the edge. 
I've been beyond left for dead. 
I've been cut, ripped to shreds. 
I've been immobilized, around my head. 
I've been *******, not that way. 
I've been scared of every day. 
I've been told that life is none. 
I've been told there is no sun.
I've been told there is no light. 
I've been told I can't fight. 
I've been told that I should run. 
I've been told to **** fun. 
You've been told that I don't care. 
You've been told that still I stare. 
You've been told by contradiction. 
You've been told by barest friction. 
You've been told by no connection. 
You've been told by the turn of her head. 
You've been told by her cruel words unsaid. 
You've been told by her over me. 
You've been told by not being free. 
You've been told by fury of heart. 
You've been told by being ripped apart. 
You've been told, maybe now you see. 
You've been told by being told by me. 
I'm so sorry.
Baby I'm so, so sorry.  
I'm still 

In love with you. 
You're gone.
andrea hundt Aug 2013
You told me you loved me.

You told me once,
A thousand times.

You told me softly,
With sweaty hands,
And eager lips.
You told me loudly,
For the world to hear.

You told me truthfully,
With tears down your cheeks,
And sadness in your eyes.
You told me to comfort me,
When there was sadness in mine.

You told me fervently,
With madness in your step.

In the snow, with winter on your breath.

You told me until your lips grew chapped,
And your throat was raw.
You told me as many times as you could,
In every opportunity you saw.

You told me you were leaving.

You told me once,
A thousand times.

You told me softly,
With your body shaking,
And your lips trembling.
You told me loudly,
And doubtful.

You told me truthfully,
With tears pooling in your eyes,
When your hands just couldn't find mine.
You told me to comfort me,
That you'd come back in time.

You told me carefully,
With tenderness.

With dying love in your caress.

You told me until you couldn't breathe,
Until I started screaming.
You can't leave me, you can't leave me.
But you left me anyway, in the snow and bleeding.

Your words were made to break me.
Melody Jun 2012
You told me that you would be there for me, were you?
You told me that if I went blind then you would be the one to lead me, were you?
You told me that if I cried that you would slap me,did you?
You told me that if I died for you that you would continue to live happily, did you?
You told me that all things are meant to be,
You told me that if one door closes then you would just open it again,
You told me ..
"Yes, I love you with all my heart."

You told me that you would be loyal, and I that I should trust you.
You told me that we are soulmates and that meant I was supposed to be in chains to serve your sorry ***.
You told me to never leave the house because you would bring the wedding papers to me.
You told me that we could have that sweet apple red 2010 Camaro with white racing stripes down the middle.
You told me that we could have my dream penthouse and your dream pool.
You told me that you would sell all of your **** magazines.

Wanna know what I told you?

I told you, when you finally let your guard down,
That I didn't want for you to be there for me,
I didn't want you to be the one leading me when I went blind.
I didn't want you to be the one to slap me to get me to stop crying.
I didn't want you to continue living happily when I died, I told you I wanted to be the one living happily when you died.
I didn't want all things to be inevitable.
I didn't want you to be the one opening up the same door over and over again, I wanted that to be me, just with a different door.
I told you,
"No, don't say that, I want you to hate me."

I didn't want you to be loyal, I knew I would never trust you.
I didn't want us to be soulmates so I can be the one that you had *** with in the basement after poker nights.

I wanted to leave the house and runaway not have a permanent pigment change on my finger where your rusty ring was.
I wanted to drive that car by myself, but now that you got it and sat your *** in it, I don't want another Camaro.
I wanted that penthouse to be mine, not ours, I'm afraid of water, why would I want a pool?
I wanted you to keep those **** magazines so I could runaway and tell the police about what you've done to those poor models.

Every time...
I should have told you


But every time...
A yes was what formed....

Not anymore...

This is fictional. I promise. I just wish I knew where it came from...
Frans Apr 2019
Have I told how much he cared for me?
Have I told you how tight he embraced me?
Have I told you how punctual he is?
Have I told you how he always enlighten me from everything?
Have I told how many times he saved me from myself?
Have I told how he helped me from my struggles everyday?
Have I told you that he forgive me from time to time?
Have I told you that he turns my weakness to my strengths?
Have I told you how he do things in control?
Have I told you how full of wisdom he is?
Have I told you how he push me to my limits
To discover something in my self?
Have I told you how many times he got disappointed in me because if my sins?
Have I told that he is also hurting  everytime I did something wrong?
Have I told you how it pains him everytime he saw me in pain as well?
Have I told how kind hearted he is?
Have I told that he is my man?
Have I you that he is my savior?
Have I told you that he is our Lord, Jesus Christ?
Joanne Heraghty May 2016
She keeps the remnants of your relationship in a box,
Which is left hidden away, under her bed, on the floor.
She used to take it out and look at its contents in nostalgia..
But not any more.

There's just something about your last moments that stop her.
Her love for you suddenly turns into hate.
All the plans she set out for the future vanish,
And she's left to believe loneliness is her fate.

She remembers how she met you in the Autumn,
When the leaves were turning from green.
And the way your eyes lit up against the orange backdrop;
It was the most beautiful thing she had ever seen..

She told me how she felt about you:
How you took a hold on her soul,
And how she left you alone in springtime,
When the world took back control.

She told me how dark the sun shone upon her,
And how she found herself lost in another.
How she avoided the overwhelming thought of losing you,
In fear that she would smother.

I knew not of her battles,
Until she made them quite clear.
She regretted ever leaving your loving arms,
So she never wanted you near.

She told me that I could never understand her.
I could never truly know why.
Because of the 13 layers of irony,
She hides deep down inside.

The darkness took over,
Once she lost site of your eyes.
Cause, although she doesn't know when it happened,
She remembers you saying your goodbyes.

You were the wind to her wind chimes.
The sea to her shore.
You were the roof to her four walls.
To her heart, you were the door.

She told me how she used to wake up every morning,
And she felt a happiness deep within.
How automatically a smile would appear on her face,
Even before her day would begin.

She described the many colours the skies took.
And how she loved the feel of the atmosphere with so many voices.
She said she felt she had a place in the world.
And she had made many good choices.

She said you showed her that she was capable of loving,
And that you proved the rest of the world was wrong.
She said you were the rock that kept her solid.
You were the strength that kept her strong.

She told me how she poured her heart out to you..
How she missed you a little more each day.
How she's wasted so much time away from you.
And if she could go back, she'd tell herself to stay.

She told me she was heartless,
That's what the whole world thought.
But, out of everyone that could have told her otherwise,
It was you who told her she was not.

She told me she had no secrets:
Yet no one knew how she felt about you.
She said she never told any lies;
But when anyone asked, she said the feelings weren't true.

She told me if she could go back,
She wouldn't remake the same mistake.
But no matter what chances she has got,
Second best is all she would take.

She fought to fix a broken world,
And no one ever asked her why.
She told me nothing broken can ever truly be mended,
But there would be no harm to try.

She said no one ever asked her what her motives were,
Because they never heeded a word she said.
So she needed to get out there and take action,
As there was no use staying in bed.

She never expected me to say what I said next,
She analysed the words I had spoken.
Her face, so beautiful, dropped suddenly then,
As I told her we are all broken.

I said I wake up in the middle of the night,
Tears streaming down my face.
Awakening from a dream I had just had,
Of a better, brighter place.

I told her she may believe she's happy now,
But I can tell even from a single thought,
It's obvious inside she's far from it,
In comparison to the happiness you brought.

She told me it was too late to fix things,
That you both had already said your goodbyes,
That you faded with the seasons since she left you,
And now she can't remember the colour of your eyes.

She said the silence has not been altered by her wind chimes,
As no wind has blown since you've been gone.
She said she felt uncomfortable in the quiet,
Without you there, everything felt wrong.

She told me that the sea parted from the shoreline,
And left behind nothing but drought.
The roof detached from her four walls,
And the flame inside went out.

She said the moment she opens the lid from the box,
That she hides away on the floor, under her bed,
Every memory she has of you comes flooding back to her,
And she mourns for you as if you're dead.

She said she hates you because that's all she can do now.
It hurts too much to continue to love you.
And she's stopped by your last moments together,
Because it was those moments that made it so true.

She found love for you in the Winter.
And brought it with her through every other season.
I asked her why she has never told you how she really feels,
But she wouldn't give me a proper reason.

Instead she denied her feelings,
And told me what she tells just anyone,
Callously, detached she pretends;
"It's too late now. You're long gone."

She said you put a wall up in defence,
And she understands perfectly why.
She thinks its best to move on and live her life without you.
A part of her has already said goodbye.

She didn't know just how beautiful she was.
It was a shame her words weren't truly heard.
She gave her all to a fight she knew she would never win,
Until her voice was silenced by the world..
22 May 2016

Copyright © All Rights Reserved Joanne Heraghty
A Jul 2016
You told me we would paint our bedroom orange and that we would have a boy and two girls and that our living room would have a big window and lots of those lame decorative pillows that everyone throws off on the couch.

You told me that every Christmas i would get to put a star on the tree and you would get to decorate it because you loved decorating the tree and one year you're going to put a ring at the top and that's how you would propose, you told me that.

You told me we would teach our kids how to tie their shoes with just one bunny ear because we grew up tying our shoes with two bunny ears and all the cool kids in kindergarten knew how to tie with just one.

You told me we would take a cooking class together and learn how to cook because you loved cooking but you weren't that good at it and I never knew what I was doing in the kitchen.

You told me that Ashley didn't matter to you but you ****** her any ways for four months straight and apologized and I told you I forgive you

You told me you wanted to see me the night after our big fight over the phone about how you never cared about me and I mean nothing too you and I told you I didn't want to see you but you showed up anyways and i melted into you and you told me you love me and I told you that I love you too and whispered in your ear that i forgive you

You told me that those texts from gabby didn't mean anything but I called you twice that night and you never answered and then someone sent me a picture of her sitting on your lap, you apologized and I told you i forgive you

You told me that I was over reacting when I didn't want you to go out with your boys that night in August when I wanted you to go with me to my friends birthday party. You went anyways and cheated on me and then apologized until I told you i forgive you

You told me that Amy was dating your work friend and you just drive her sometimes when she needs a ride but I found out you were taking her on dates and buying her lingerie then you apologized and I told you that i forgive you

You told me that I was the reason you weren't committed, that I couldn't hold you down, that you needed someone stronger with no baggage and bigger ******* to keep you grounded.
I don't blame you, I blame myself.
raw with love Aug 2015
The first time I couldn't get out of bed, I shook so hard I feared my bones would shatter.
My mum never taught me how to deal with this excruciating emptiness inside me,
she never told me one day I could wake up and feel
like nothing in my life would ever matter.
She never told me there could be days and nights that pass by
in the blink of an eye
days and nights when I lie on my bed
and force myself to breathe --
because even breathing feels like a tedious chore.
She never told me I might wake up some day
and feel so tired, so tired that no amount of sleep
would ever make me un-tired again.
She never told me
I might sit on the bathroom floor some night
and feel the water run over me
feel it seep into my bones
and I might just sit there, for hours on end
until the boiling hot water that could leave my skin blistered
went ice cold and made me shiver --
She never told me that
I might sink nails and blades deep into my flesh
like voracious beasts because
it might take the pain away somehow.
She never  told me that
I might stay awake trying to lull myself
single night
while voices in my head
churned and churned and churned
that I was useless, that no one would ever love me, that I was incapable of being loved.
She never told me that my bones
would feel so feeble, fragile, that I would always, always feel
so cold.
She never told me
that I would sprawl myself on the bed, eyes wide open,
and I would wonder why nothing at all
mattered to me.
She never told me
that I would end up fearing the blinding daylight sneaking in through the curtains
because it means another day
of apathetic existence.
She never told me
that I would feel like a graveyard,
and she never told me that
a day might come when I look in the mirror
and see a ghost.
She never warned me
that the world might turn gray, she never
warned me
that panic would sometimes sweep me off my feet like a tidal wave
and I would lie on the floor/in a hole in the ground/on a bed of nails
and struggle for breath
and force my heart to keep beating --
for what I do not know,
because she never told me
that a day might come when nothing in the world would have a meaning.
She never told me
I would walk past snowdrifts and wish for peace
and crave to lie in one and let the snow cover me
until my lips were blue
and my skin was blue
and my eyes were cold
and I was finally as blue on the outside as on the inside.
That I would want to die
simply because there was nothing to keep me living.
That I would stuff myself with pills
so I could fall asleep at last.
She never told me.
She never warned me.
So when I went to her with my wrists ripped open and ragged
my hands warm and sanguine with my own blood,
she told me
We can get through this like family.
I don't know what family is, mom.
I only know what it's like to shake like a leaf from the chill, down to your very bones, when outside it's summer.
I only know what it's like to paint a porcelain smile on my porcelain face and feign interest
because just like porcelain I will shatter.
I only know what it's like to forcefully drag myself in the shower,
to forcefully wipe my chin from the *****,
to scratch slurs on my arms,
or else, to be ecstatic.
I don't know what family is, mom, because I've always pretended.
I don't know what family is, mom, because I'm made out of plastic.
I don't know what family is, mom. Dead girls don't have families.
brooke myers Jul 2015
he said he loved me,
he said he cared,
he said he wouldn't break me,
he said he understood,
he said he loved me,
he said he would protect me,
he said he would help me,
he said he loved me ,
he said he cared,
he said a lot of things that i would die to hear once more.
his lips were addictive just like air,
he said he would stay with me,
he said he would be there,
he said he loved me,
he said he cared.
he told me he loved me.
he told me he'd be there.
he left me to hang.
left me to bleed.
left me to die.
left me to be broken one more time.
he snapped me in half again.
he lead me on.
he took what was mine,
and ran away.
he told me he loved me.
he said that he cared.
he said that he promised he’d always be there.
he lied like all the others.
i thought he cared.
i thought that he loved me.
i thought that he was different from the others but he was just a spare.
a fool to be so cruel.
a fool to sweep me off my feet,
then let me weep in a pool of my own blood.
i told him everything all my secrets and fears
he knew i feared to lose him
and he knew the game very well..
the game of love and the game of loss.
he knew i couldn't lose another soul
he knew id beg and plead for him to run on back to me
but instead he led me to my death
my heartbreak once more.
he told me that he loved me
he told me that he cared.
he told me that he loved me
he told me that he cared
he told me that he’d be there
he told me that he cared he told me things
ive never heard before.
he told me wild things that made my heart glow even more
he told things that i fell for
he told me that he loved me
he told me that he’d save me
he told me that he would protect me
he told me that he loved me once more
he’s just like the rest
they destroy
and ****
they only want one thing
they pretend to fall in love with you.
they tell you they love you.
they tell you they care.
they tell you they’ll be there
they tell you they’ll save you from your demons and terriers
you believe them
sometimes give in
you believe them
they kiss you,
cuddle you.
make you feel love.
you believe you can feel the warmth
but there is none
just cold
they take what they want
then they tell you basically that you're not enough.
that you can't give them what they want.
what they dream of.
they want perfection.
seeking for innocent blood
then they let you down easy
they turn mean and start to destroy you.
just remember they're just out for one thing
and don't let your guard down baby because if you do they won't stay long
this was originally a song that i wrote for my band, but i decided it could be both a song and a poem.
Rangzeb Hussain Mar 2010
Who is that rides so late in the forest so dark and wild?
It is but a helpless father and his frightened and lonely child,
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

The father cradles his lovely son gently in his arms,
He keeps him snug and he keeps him warm and he keeps him calm,
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My son, why do you wrap your radiant face in such dread and fear?”
“Mine father, can you not see the Erl-King? He draws ever so near!”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“O father! The Erl-King with his weedy crown and thorns of pain is here!”
“My son, it is nothing more than mist and rain on the plain over there.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Sweet lad, O come into my jolly lair and join me, do!
Many pretty and joyful games do I promise to play with you.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

On the forest floor the autumn flowers die in the suffocating cold.
“O you dreaming lad, I have for you garments of red silk dyed in gold.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Mine father, mine father, can you not hear my rising fear?
The Erl-King drips dark promises and breathes in my ear! Help me, father dear!”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Be calm, stay calm, rest my child, stay easy and keep your head low,
In these withered leaves it is only the night winds that creep and roar.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My rosy lipped lad, will you come take a merry stroll and dine with me?
My daughters three shall care for you and many wonders will you see.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My silky daughters of darkness live in yonder castle in shadows deep,
They three will dance and sing and cradle you to the sweetest of sleep.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“Mine father, mine father, O can you not see the red eyes in his fearful face?
The Erl-King’s misty-eyed daughters live in that haunted place!"
The wind blows icy cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“My son, my son, I see the frozen milky moon very clear
And how the ancient weeping willows like castles in the dark do appear.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“O how delicious you smell, my tender innocent succulent boy!
Come off that horse and take these wonderfully coloured bright toys.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

“O father, my father, the Erl-King has seized me by the arm!
His long bony claws crawl toward my heart to do to me hungry harm.”
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

The father whips and rides fast but his warm cottage is away by a mile,
In his arms he holds the groaning, twisting, shivering child,
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Listen quietly as this tragic tale is told.

The horse halts outside the family home and the father looks with dread
For his son, his only child, he holds in his arms is now dead!
The wind blows sharp and cold,
Hush! Weep quietly as this tragic tale is now all told.
Inspired by the work of Johann Wolfgang von Goethe and Franz Schubert.
L A Lamb Sep 2014
Friday, August 01, 2014, Buttes-Chaumont Parc, Paris, France.

Why do I need feminism? We all have our reasons. We all have our stories. Let me tell you about my day:

I was sitting on a hill in the grass at Buttes-Chaumont park, a lovely historical area in Paris. I wanted to be relatively by myself so I could write in peace and smoke without drawing attention to myself. I’m sitting, book in my lap, a pen and cig between my fingers, when I am approached by a man. My main concern was determining whether or not he was the po-lice, but he had no characteristics of cops. He appeared emotionally stable and had good hygiene so I wasn’t too uncertain, (isn’t it kind of bad how we judge people on that stuff?), still, I wondered what he wanted, dreading having to talk to someone when I was merely trying to write in peace. I figured he was going to ask me for something to smoke.

He didn’t. Instead, he asked if he could sit by me. I look around and scan all the other vacant spaces he could sit instead, making it obvious that there was plenty of room to sit instead of right the **** next to me. It’s a pretty big park. “Si ca ta derange pas?” I wasn’t planning on staying long anyway, but I knew he wouldn’t be dangerous as there were many families and couples and runners and walkers, old friends and young kids playing. I felt safe enough, and he seemed harmless. I figured if anything, I could practice my French, which was always nice.

I said okay. He sat, and for a moment we sat in silence. I made myself a sandwich with baguette and cheese and offered him some. He politely declined. We started talking.

I asked if he was Parisian, and he told me he lived there for a while but was from Afrique. I didn’t catch which country, but I don’t think he specified which region. He asked about me, and I told him I was American, born in DC, but I came to France every so often and it was my first language. We talked about travel. We talked about the chaos in the Middle East, and how it was prophesized in scripture. He told me he was Muslim. I told him I wasn’t religious.

I told him I acknowledged the importance of texts, but I believe our ability to think has evolved in 2000 years and we have more information now than we did then. I told him there was too much life and I could not fit it all into one magic being which sprinkled glitter and said “Let there be” and we were created. I told him I really liked the Asian philosophies of Buddhism and Daoism. We talked about peace. We talked about Human Rights and the beauty of diversity, and how marvelous it was people could live among another in peace.

I said it was cool, and I even said it was cool that even as a black man in Europe and an Arab-American woman, we could talk freely without hostility and social division. We talked about closed-mindedness and Conservativism. I explained cognitive dissonance contributing to conflict, generated by opposing views and resistance/reluctance to consider new ideas. We talked about Psychology. I told him I was a writer and I told him about Cabaret Populaire in Belleville and the poetry community in Paris. I told him I love Paris. We talked again about travel.

He told me he was in Germany last weekend, and I told him I was in Langen Tuesday night. He told me he always wanted to go to the U.S.A. We talked about immigration. We talked about the American Dream. We talked about money. I told him I was proposed to the last time I was in Lebanon. We talked about reasons people marry. I reminded him today was the first of August, which meant I’d been with my boyfriend for two months. We talked about love. We talked about monogamy, polyamory and infidelity. We talked about Islam. We talked about racism.

We were sitting there talking for an hour or so, which I was especially grateful for, because besides having an interesting conversation I was able to speak in French for all of it, as he did not speak English (apparently he spoke German, though). I stood up to leave and told him “Enchanté,” but before I started walking off he motioned for me to look at his phone. I was wondering if he was trying to add me on Facebook or follow me on Instagram or something, but I am instead confronted by a picture on his screen of him laying on his back on a bed, with an ***** ***** as the focal point.

Furious, I asked him “Pourquoi tu ma montre ca?! J’ai pas demande a voir ca!”

The stupid smile on his face disappeared and was replaced by a look of slight hurt, confusion, and surprise.

“Bordelle! C’est dommage—mais c’est ca—des hommes et femmes ne peuvent pas parler normalment, vraiment!”

And for the vile words I wanted to spout, I scoffed instead, too much of a lady to shout or get emotional, but I made sure to call him out and stand my ground, exuding negative energy and making it clear with my few words that that was not okay.

I gave no impression of interest in seeing his ****, so why did he do that? Even if he thought I might want to (hell never) he should have heard me ask or vocally say “yes, you can do that.” However, I did not ask; there were no prompts, hints, innuendos or even suggestive, flirty phrasing that would serve as an indication of ****** interest on my behalf.

I don’t want to be cynical and assume all guys are perverts and avoid any conversation because I’m not a rude person (generally). I’m not sexist. I value conversations and friendships with people without emphasis of gender importance. I try not to assume that everyone is sketchy or has ****** up motives. Some people just want to talk.

I wasn’t going to blatantly ignore or dismiss him because he was a man, nor because he was black, foreign, or Muslim. But where the hell is he from that he was socialized and thought that was appropriate or wanted?

I did not ask. The worst part is that he seemed like a genuinely alright person, but then he had to ruin it by whipping out a **** pic. Gross. What’s even more gross is the sense of entitlement he had, thinking it was acceptable to do that. You are a stranger. And I don’t want to see your ******, you disgusting *******.

I really don’t like assuming **** about people or making generalizations. I’m not going to assimilate one ****** with every group they are assigned to and stereotype against every person of that respective group. But fuckkkk. It’s annoying and disappointing that what I thought was a pleasant talk and exchange of ideas with a friendly stranger was actually a plot to show me his ****. ****.

The moral of this story is to say why feminism is needed, because this happens to people every day. If you still need further assistance understanding, please allow me to elaborate:

1)      I need feminism because it allows me to stand up for myself and feel confident about stating that I’m uncomfortable with unwanted behaviors and I’m not going to tolerate them.

These behaviors include, but are not limited to:

1)      Showing me **** pics

2)      Assuming it’s okay to show a girl you met not even an hour ago a **** pic (Do not even say it’s because of a culture difference, because I know of Frenchies who don’t do that)

3)      Approaching me because I’m sitting alone (I accepted that because I assumed he wasn’t going to violate my mind like that (good thing I don’t have photographic memory) but I didn’t wave over and say “Hey, you look friendly! Come over and talk to me!”)

4)      Asking me how serious things are with my boyfriend

5)      Asking me about my bisexuality—only to invalidate it

6)      Assigning me behavior expectations because of my gender

7)      Trying to control the way I do or do not reproduce

8)      Expecting me to behave a certain way because of my sexuality

9)      Judging me based on my sexuality

10)  Openly discriminating against people and expecting me to be okay with prejudice

11)  Using racist terms… because you’re a racist

12)  Dehumanizing the oppressed

Because I don’t know what you studied about it (wait—most people who disagree with feminism haven’t and are completely misinformed) but:

Feminism is about equality, and it doesn’t feel very equal when I show someone respect but I get no respect in return. And if you associate feminism with fauxminism and misandry, please educate yourself. (If I had Tumblr still, you better believe I would’ve already posted this). To quote the great words of Jay in Jay and Silent Bob Strike Back: "Remember, don’t whip your **** out unless she asks."
Kelly Miller Jun 2016
They told me to write an essay on how I see the world... as if my opinion actually matters.

They told me to write an essay on my life... as if they would ever know my pain.

They told me to write.

That's it.

They told me to let it flow... as if expressing could ever heal.

They told me to let it go... as if my past was one I could chose to forget.

Like the time... yea.
Like this time.

He told me he loved me... like the alcohol in his dreams.

He told me to pay attention... as if my mind could ever focus.

He told me to clean my room... as if my memory could erase the hurt he caused.

He told me to shut up as I cried in pain after my mother was beaten.

He told me to let it go as if my witness of **** was never even there.

That's it.

She told me she would help me... but where is she now?

My mother is gone.
My mother is...

My father will never believe.
My father will never be.

They told me to write an essay of how I see the world.

They told me not to let my past interfere and to never let my emotions get the best of me.

How should I do that?
I don't remember.
Am I supposed to?

He told me to clean my room... as if my memory could erase the hurt he caused.

They told me...
Written June 4th 16
Destiny Jan 2020
I remember that night like it was last night.
Except that I don't really remember all the details, which means that it didn't actually happen. . .right?

It was the weekend
My older brother was visiting
We were trying to see if he could potentially be adopted with me and my twin brother
The first of two days was great
We got along
I had missed him
We had dinner
We went to bed
I was in my room
He was in my twin brothers room
Then everything went downhill
He texted me
He asked if I remembered the time he tried to use me the first time
I said yes and told him to leave me alone
I was 15
He was almost 18
He kept texting me
He asked if I wanted to have ***
I told him no
He called me a *****
I told him to leave me alone
He kept asking
He threatened me
He told me that he would hurt me if I told him no
I kept saying no
And again
I said no repeatedly as fast as I could send to the two letter text
He wouldn't take no for an answer
I asked him if I said yes would he leave me alone for the night
He said yes
He lied
I put my phone away and tried to go to sleep
He came downstairs
He knocked on my door
I answer and told him to leave me alone
He pushed his way in
He pushed me onto my twin sized bed
He told me to take my underwear off
I said no
So he took them off
He told me that he was going to get his way
No matter what
I told him no several more times and that I was scared of him
He didn't care
He told me that it was going to hurt
He pinned me down
I was crying
He told me to shut up
He was holding my wrists so tight
He was inside me
It hurt
I told him to stop
He asked me if it felt nice
I told him that I wanted him off me and that he was hurting me
He went faster and more rough
He laughed
I cried hysterically
I want to scream
I want to get him off me
I was frozen
He had won
He got what he wanted regardless of how I felt
He got off me
He left my room
I heard him walk up the stairs
He was done with his toy
I cried all night
I screamed into my pillow
I wished that I could've died
I tried to strangle myself
I wanted my soon to be adoptive parents to walk in and find me dead
I was *****
I let him hurt me
I let him use me
I let him **** me
I finally went to sleep
I woke up the next morning
I had breakfast and I waited for my CPS Caseworker to come for her weekly inspection
She came
She left
With no suspicion
Then he left
He had his visit but had to go back to his foster home.
I told a friend
She told a trusted adult
That trusted adult helped me tell my soon to be adoptive parents
The investigation started
The **** kit and examination made me feel twice as *****
The wanted the clothes I was wearing
My silky nightgown and my underwear
They wanted all the text messages
They wanted everything he touched
They questioned me asking if it was consensual
I told me them that it was not and that I kept saying no
They told me that I was lying
They told me that because I said yes out of fear that they couldn't trust me
The case was closed
He was set free
I was just a liar
Nothing happened
E Townsend Aug 2016
You sold me a false dream. You told me that I could make it home after I graduated. High school. College. I’m still ******* here. I told you that I was a failure, I failed at achieving my dream of finally escaping hell. Everyone else got their form of happiness. My turn will never arrive.
You told me that the future would be a happy time, but when I thought of the future ten years ago, I didn't think I would still feel like this.
You told me that people loved me, but they never showed it. No one put in as much effort into the relationship as I did. It was always me who responded first, initiated the conversation, sent reminders that hey, I guess we’re still friends, even though you don't act like it.
You forgot that I did not work well with the routine of muttering in my head, “I’m fine, just relax and breathe.” You told me that I needed to make the most of where I was, which was like forcing a fish to live on land and expecting them to breathe.
You told me that I moved on, and then I didn't, and then I did. Quit playing games.
You told me that it was okay to tell that guy extremely intimate details, but I ended up disappointed.
You told me to assume that someone I loved would be just as willing to love me fiercely in return. You told me that someone special will come along. Where are they?
You told me that I have to make everyone in my family happy, but everyone has different expectations and I’m struggling to fulfill one person’s wishes without upsetting the other.
You told me I need to go out more, accept invitations to attend some concert in Dallas, or hang out at her house for New Year’s Eve. I hate going out.
You told me to pretend that I was in a cliché high school movie at a party and try to flirt with a guy. He didn't like me. He was more interested in my brother.
You told me that no one cared how badly I presented my speech in my last Spanish class, but I felt everyone’s pity cutting into my mouth.
You told me that my soul is the one thing I can’t compromise, but it’s already shattered into irreparable fragments.
You told me that people would admire the way I loved sunsets, the lights on the streets after dark, the small things. No one has told me that they noticed my habits.

I placed myself back into my body and walked away from the mirror.
what if i told you one of my teachers
told me that men wouldn't love me
if i didn't stop biting my nails
or that if i kept my hair short,
people would think that i was a boy
and that i should continue to care what they think
over what you like
what you want to do.

now what if i told you i was five when my teacher told me that?
what if i told you i was a child
when i was told i was undesirable to the opposite ***

what if i told you
that today in class
we had an argument about basic human rights
that we were arguing about how people who weren't white
or cis
or straight were less than human
and the people that defended them
the people who said that they were people
were called "the blue hair girls"
and criticized
and told that they were bullying
the teen boys who were being small-minded
simply for trying to explain to them how they're humanity
and how it's okay

what if i told you that i was told i would never make it
that my dreams weren't reachable
and that i should lower my standard
to be accepted
and when i pushed back,
they told me that i was a *****.
i didn't argue,
because i still believe them.

what if i told you that fathers could steal their daughter's virginity
and still be notified that she was getting rid of the baby
that he placed inside of her
that he still got a say in where it went
and if she could actually get an abortion

what if i told you
that people thought it was okay
to be cruel and god awful
and say that it's all because of what the bible says
because jesus said that it was wrong
that people got away with years and generations of sexism
and racism
and homophobia
just because they thought the bible told them that it was wrong.

what if i told you i wanted out of this world
what would you do?
would you even care?
i don't think that you would.
you would move on
thinking that it would be weird
if you tried to offer your help.

what if i told you it wasn't?
J R Corbin Jul 2016
Yeah, I’ve said the words so often
And so many times the same,
That sometimes when I say them now
I’m not sure I know her name.

So when I met you I was sure
Just like the times before
That I would love you for a while,
Then show you out the door.

But you told me that you loved me,
And you told me I would know,
‘cause you felt way deep down in your heart
My love for you would grow.

So I told you you were beautiful,
And I told you you were fine,
And just maybe when the stars were right
That someday, you’d be mine,

And I told you all the pretty words
You could ever want to hear,
But then I felt a little tug,
A tiny twinge of fear.

Instrumental bridge

So I told you that my love for you
Was nothing more than dust.
That whatever I may feel for you
Was little more than lust,

And I told you I was sorry
‘Cause life was just that way,
And I never really loved you,
And that you should go away.

But you told me that you loved me,
And you told me I would know,
‘cause you felt way deep within your heart
My love for you would grow.

Then you took me in your open arms,
And you said you’d never part,
And you told me that our souls were one,
You could feel it in your heart,

And my struggle to be free from you
Grew much weaker with each day,
So when you silenced all my fears
There was just one thing to say,

So I told you that I loved you,
And I told you that I knew
‘cause the happy feelin’ in my heart
was oh, so sweetly true.

Yet though my heart is peaceful now
I wonder to this day,
Where would I be if you told me
That I should go away?

But you told me that you loved me,
And you told me I would know,
‘cause you knew way deep within your heart
That my love for you would grow.
ConnectHook Feb 2016
by John Greenleaf Whittier  (1807 – 1892)

“As the Spirits of Darkness be stronger in the dark, so Good Spirits which be Angels of Light are augmented not only by the Divine Light of the Sun, but also by our common Wood fire: and as the celestial Fire drives away dark spirits, so also this our Fire of Wood doth the same.”

        COR. AGRIPPA,
           Occult Philosophy, Book I. chap. v.

Announced by all the trumpets of the sky,
Arrives the snow; and, driving o’er the fields,
Seems nowhere to alight; the whited air
Hides hills and woods, the river and the heaven,
And veils the farm-house at the garden’s end.
The sled and traveller stopped, the courier’s feet
Delayed, all friends shut out, the housemates sit
Around the radiant fireplace, enclosed
In a tumultuous privacy of storm.


The sun that brief December day
Rose cheerless over hills of gray,
And, darkly circled, gave at noon
A sadder light than waning moon.
Slow tracing down the thickening sky
Its mute and ominous prophecy,
A portent seeming less than threat,
It sank from sight before it set.
A chill no coat, however stout,
Of homespun stuff could quite shut out,
A hard, dull bitterness of cold,
That checked, mid-vein, the circling race
Of life-blood in the sharpened face,
The coming of the snow-storm told.
The wind blew east; we heard the roar
Of Ocean on his wintry shore,
And felt the strong pulse throbbing there
Beat with low rhythm our inland air.

Meanwhile we did our nightly chores, —
Brought in the wood from out of doors,
Littered the stalls, and from the mows
Raked down the herd’s-grass for the cows;
Heard the horse whinnying for his corn;
And, sharply clashing horn on horn,
Impatient down the stanchion rows
The cattle shake their walnut bows;
While, peering from his early perch
Upon the scaffold’s pole of birch,
The **** his crested helmet bent
And down his querulous challenge sent.

Unwarmed by any sunset light
The gray day darkened into night,
A night made hoary with the swarm
And whirl-dance of the blinding storm,
As zigzag, wavering to and fro,
Crossed and recrossed the wingàd snow:
And ere the early bedtime came
The white drift piled the window-frame,
And through the glass the clothes-line posts
Looked in like tall and sheeted ghosts.

So all night long the storm roared on:
The morning broke without a sun;
In tiny spherule traced with lines
Of Nature’s geometric signs,
And, when the second morning shone,
We looked upon a world unknown,
On nothing we could call our own.
Around the glistening wonder bent
The blue walls of the firmament,
No cloud above, no earth below, —
A universe of sky and snow!
The old familiar sights of ours
Took marvellous shapes; strange domes and towers
Rose up where sty or corn-crib stood,
Or garden-wall, or belt of wood;
A smooth white mound the brush-pile showed,
A fenceless drift what once was road;
The bridle-post an old man sat
With loose-flung coat and high cocked hat;
The well-curb had a Chinese roof;
And even the long sweep, high aloof,
In its slant spendor, seemed to tell
Of Pisa’s leaning miracle.

A prompt, decisive man, no breath
Our father wasted: “Boys, a path!”
Well pleased, (for when did farmer boy
Count such a summons less than joy?)
Our buskins on our feet we drew;
With mittened hands, and caps drawn low,
To guard our necks and ears from snow,
We cut the solid whiteness through.
And, where the drift was deepest, made
A tunnel walled and overlaid
With dazzling crystal: we had read
Of rare Aladdin’s wondrous cave,
And to our own his name we gave,
With many a wish the luck were ours
To test his lamp’s supernal powers.
We reached the barn with merry din,
And roused the prisoned brutes within.
The old horse ****** his long head out,
And grave with wonder gazed about;
The **** his ***** greeting said,
And forth his speckled harem led;
The oxen lashed their tails, and hooked,
And mild reproach of hunger looked;
The hornëd patriarch of the sheep,
Like Egypt’s Amun roused from sleep,
Shook his sage head with gesture mute,
And emphasized with stamp of foot.

All day the gusty north-wind bore
The loosening drift its breath before;
Low circling round its southern zone,
The sun through dazzling snow-mist shone.
No church-bell lent its Christian tone
To the savage air, no social smoke
Curled over woods of snow-hung oak.
A solitude made more intense
By dreary-voicëd elements,
The shrieking of the mindless wind,
The moaning tree-boughs swaying blind,
And on the glass the unmeaning beat
Of ghostly finger-tips of sleet.
Beyond the circle of our hearth
No welcome sound of toil or mirth
Unbound the spell, and testified
Of human life and thought outside.
We minded that the sharpest ear
The buried brooklet could not hear,
The music of whose liquid lip
Had been to us companionship,
And, in our lonely life, had grown
To have an almost human tone.

As night drew on, and, from the crest
Of wooded knolls that ridged the west,
The sun, a snow-blown traveller, sank
From sight beneath the smothering bank,
We piled, with care, our nightly stack
Of wood against the chimney-back, —
The oaken log, green, huge, and thick,
And on its top the stout back-stick;
The knotty forestick laid apart,
And filled between with curious art

The ragged brush; then, hovering near,
We watched the first red blaze appear,
Heard the sharp crackle, caught the gleam
On whitewashed wall and sagging beam,
Until the old, rude-furnished room
Burst, flower-like, into rosy bloom;
While radiant with a mimic flame
Outside the sparkling drift became,
And through the bare-boughed lilac-tree
Our own warm hearth seemed blazing free.
The crane and pendent trammels showed,
The Turks’ heads on the andirons glowed;
While childish fancy, prompt to tell
The meaning of the miracle,
Whispered the old rhyme: “Under the tree,
When fire outdoors burns merrily,
There the witches are making tea.”

The moon above the eastern wood
Shone at its full; the hill-range stood
Transfigured in the silver flood,
Its blown snows flashing cold and keen,
Dead white, save where some sharp ravine
Took shadow, or the sombre green
Of hemlocks turned to pitchy black
Against the whiteness at their back.
For such a world and such a night
Most fitting that unwarming light,
Which only seemed where’er it fell
To make the coldness visible.

Shut in from all the world without,
We sat the clean-winged hearth about,
Content to let the north-wind roar
In baffled rage at pane and door,
While the red logs before us beat
The frost-line back with tropic heat;
And ever, when a louder blast
Shook beam and rafter as it passed,
The merrier up its roaring draught
The great throat of the chimney laughed;
The house-dog on his paws outspread
Laid to the fire his drowsy head,
The cat’s dark silhouette on the wall
A couchant tiger’s seemed to fall;
And, for the winter fireside meet,
Between the andirons’ straddling feet,
The mug of cider simmered slow,
The apples sputtered in a row,
And, close at hand, the basket stood
With nuts from brown October’s wood.

What matter how the night behaved?
What matter how the north-wind raved?
Blow high, blow low, not all its snow
Could quench our hearth-fire’s ruddy glow.
O Time and Change! — with hair as gray
As was my sire’s that winter day,
How strange it seems, with so much gone
Of life and love, to still live on!
Ah, brother! only I and thou
Are left of all that circle now, —
The dear home faces whereupon
That fitful firelight paled and shone.
Henceforward, listen as we will,
The voices of that hearth are still;
Look where we may, the wide earth o’er,
Those lighted faces smile no more.

We tread the paths their feet have worn,
We sit beneath their orchard trees,
We hear, like them, the hum of bees
And rustle of the bladed corn;
We turn the pages that they read,
Their written words we linger o’er,
But in the sun they cast no shade,
No voice is heard, no sign is made,
No step is on the conscious floor!
Yet Love will dream, and Faith will trust,
(Since He who knows our need is just,)
That somehow, somewhere, meet we must.
Alas for him who never sees
The stars shine through his cypress-trees!
Who, hopeless, lays his dead away,
Nor looks to see the breaking day
Across the mournful marbles play!
Who hath not learned, in hours of faith,
The truth to flesh and sense unknown,
That Life is ever lord of Death,
And Love can never lose its own!

We sped the time with stories old,
Wrought puzzles out, and riddles told,
Or stammered from our school-book lore
“The Chief of Gambia’s golden shore.”
How often since, when all the land
Was clay in Slavery’s shaping hand,
As if a far-blown trumpet stirred
Dame Mercy Warren’s rousing word:
“Does not the voice of reason cry,
Claim the first right which Nature gave,
From the red scourge of ******* to fly,
Nor deign to live a burdened slave!”
Our father rode again his ride
On Memphremagog’s wooded side;
Sat down again to moose and samp
In trapper’s hut and Indian camp;
Lived o’er the old idyllic ease
Beneath St. François’ hemlock-trees;
Again for him the moonlight shone
On Norman cap and bodiced zone;
Again he heard the violin play
Which led the village dance away.
And mingled in its merry whirl
The grandam and the laughing girl.
Or, nearer home, our steps he led
Where Salisbury’s level marshes spread
Mile-wide as flies the laden bee;
Where merry mowers, hale and strong,
Swept, scythe on scythe, their swaths along
The low green prairies of the sea.
We shared the fishing off Boar’s Head,
And round the rocky Isles of Shoals
The hake-broil on the drift-wood coals;
The chowder on the sand-beach made,
Dipped by the hungry, steaming hot,
With spoons of clam-shell from the ***.
We heard the tales of witchcraft old,
And dream and sign and marvel told
To sleepy listeners as they lay
Stretched idly on the salted hay,
Adrift along the winding shores,
When favoring breezes deigned to blow
The square sail of the gundelow
And idle lay the useless oars.

Our mother, while she turned her wheel
Or run the new-knit stocking-heel,
Told how the Indian hordes came down
At midnight on Concheco town,
And how her own great-uncle bore
His cruel scalp-mark to fourscore.
Recalling, in her fitting phrase,
So rich and picturesque and free
(The common unrhymed poetry
Of simple life and country ways,)
The story of her early days, —
She made us welcome to her home;
Old hearths grew wide to give us room;
We stole with her a frightened look
At the gray wizard’s conjuring-book,
The fame whereof went far and wide
Through all the simple country side;
We heard the hawks at twilight play,
The boat-horn on Piscataqua,
The loon’s weird laughter far away;
We fished her little trout-brook, knew
What flowers in wood and meadow grew,
What sunny hillsides autumn-brown
She climbed to shake the ripe nuts down,
Saw where in sheltered cove and bay,
The ducks’ black squadron anchored lay,
And heard the wild-geese calling loud
Beneath the gray November cloud.
Then, haply, with a look more grave,
And soberer tone, some tale she gave
From painful Sewel’s ancient tome,
Beloved in every Quaker home,
Of faith fire-winged by martyrdom,
Or Chalkley’s Journal, old and quaint, —
Gentlest of skippers, rare sea-saint! —
Who, when the dreary calms prevailed,
And water-**** and bread-cask failed,
And cruel, hungry eyes pursued
His portly presence mad for food,
With dark hints muttered under breath
Of casting lots for life or death,

Offered, if Heaven withheld supplies,
To be himself the sacrifice.
Then, suddenly, as if to save
The good man from his living grave,
A ripple on the water grew,
A school of porpoise flashed in view.
“Take, eat,” he said, “and be content;
These fishes in my stead are sent
By Him who gave the tangled ram
To spare the child of Abraham.”
Our uncle, innocent of books,
Was rich in lore of fields and brooks,
The ancient teachers never dumb
Of Nature’s unhoused lyceum.
In moons and tides and weather wise,
He read the clouds as prophecies,
And foul or fair could well divine,
By many an occult hint and sign,
Holding the cunning-warded keys
To all the woodcraft mysteries;
Himself to Nature’s heart so near
v That all her voices in his ear
Of beast or bird had meanings clear,
Like Apollonius of old,
Who knew the tales the sparrows told,
Or Hermes, who interpreted
What the sage cranes of Nilus said;
A simple, guileless, childlike man,
Content to live where life began;
Strong only on his native grounds,
The little world of sights and sounds
Whose girdle was the parish bounds,
Whereof his fondly partial pride
The common features magnified,
As Surrey hills to mountains grew
In White of Selborne’s loving view, —
He told how teal and loon he shot,
And how the eagle’s eggs he got,
The feats on pond and river done,
The prodigies of rod and gun;
Till, warming with the tales he told,
Forgotten was the outside cold,
The bitter wind unheeded blew,
From ripening corn the pigeons flew,
The partridge drummed i’ the wood, the mink
Went fishing down the river-brink.
In fields with bean or clover gay,
The woodchuck, like a hermit gray,
Peered from the doorway of his cell;
The muskrat plied the mason’s trade,
And tier by tier his mud-walls laid;
And from the shagbark overhead
The grizzled squirrel dropped his shell.

Next, the dear aunt, whose smile of cheer
And voice in dreams I see and hear, —
The sweetest woman ever Fate
Perverse denied a household mate,
Who, lonely, homeless, not the less
Found peace in love’s unselfishness,
And welcome wheresoe’er she went,
A calm and gracious element,
Whose presence seemed the sweet income
And womanly atmosphere of home, —
Called up her girlhood memories,
The huskings and the apple-bees,
The sleigh-rides and the summer sails,
Weaving through all the poor details
And homespun warp of circumstance
A golden woof-thread of romance.
For well she kept her genial mood
And simple faith of maidenhood;
Before her still a cloud-land lay,
The mirage loomed across her way;
The morning dew, that dries so soon
With others, glistened at her noon;
Through years of toil and soil and care,
From glossy tress to thin gray hair,
All unprofaned she held apart
The ****** fancies of the heart.
Be shame to him of woman born
Who hath for such but thought of scorn.
There, too, our elder sister plied
Her evening task the stand beside;
A full, rich nature, free to trust,
Truthful and almost sternly just,
Impulsive, earnest, prompt to act,
And make her generous thought a fact,
Keeping with many a light disguise
The secret of self-sacrifice.

O heart sore-tried! thou hast the best
That Heaven itself could give thee, — rest,
Rest from all bitter thoughts and things!
How many a poor one’s blessing went
With thee beneath the low green tent
Whose curtain never outward swings!

As one who held herself a part
Of all she saw, and let her heart
Against the household ***** lean,
Upon the motley-braided mat
Our youngest and our dearest sat,
Lifting her large, sweet, asking eyes,
Now bathed in the unfading green
And holy peace of Paradise.
Oh, looking from some heavenly hill,
Or from the shade of saintly palms,
Or silver reach of river calms,
Do those large eyes behold me still?
With me one little year ago: —
The chill weight of the winter snow
For months upon her grave has lain;
And now, when summer south-winds blow
And brier and harebell bloom again,
I tread the pleasant paths we trod,
I see the violet-sprinkled sod
Whereon she leaned, too frail and weak
The hillside flowers she loved to seek,
Yet following me where’er I went
With dark eyes full of love’s content.
The birds are glad; the brier-rose fills
The air with sweetness; all the hills
Stretch green to June’s unclouded sky;
But still I wait with ear and eye
For something gone which should be nigh,
A loss in all familiar things,
In flower that blooms, and bird that sings.
And yet, dear heart! remembering thee,
Am I not richer than of old?
Safe in thy immortality,
What change can reach the wealth I hold?
What chance can mar the pearl and gold
Thy love hath left in trust with me?
And while in life’s late afternoon,
Where cool and long the shadows grow,
I walk to meet the night that soon
Shall shape and shadow overflow,
I cannot feel that thou art far,
Since near at need the angels are;
And when the sunset gates unbar,
Shall I not see thee waiting stand,
And, white against the evening star,
The welcome of thy beckoning hand?

Brisk wielder of the birch and rule,
The master of the district school
Held at the fire his favored place,
Its warm glow lit a laughing face
Fresh-hued and fair, where scarce appeared
The uncertain prophecy of beard.
He teased the mitten-blinded cat,
Played cross-pins on my uncle’s hat,
Sang songs, and told us what befalls
In classic Dartmouth’s college halls.
Born the wild Northern hills among,
From whence his yeoman father wrung
By patient toil subsistence scant,
Not competence and yet not want,
He early gained the power to pay
His cheerful, self-reliant way;
Could doff at ease his scholar’s gown
To peddle wares from town to town;
Or through the long vacation’s reach
In lonely lowland districts teach,
Where all the droll experience found
At stranger hearths in boarding round,
The moonlit skater’s keen delight,
The sleigh-drive through the frosty night,
The rustic party, with its rough
Accompaniment of blind-man’s-buff,
And whirling-plate, and forfeits paid,
His winter task a pastime made.
Happy the snow-locked homes wherein
He tuned his merry violin,

Or played the athlete in the barn,
Or held the good dame’s winding-yarn,
Or mirth-provoking versions told
Of classic legends rare and old,
Wherein the scenes of Greece and Rome
Had all the commonplace of home,
And little seemed at best the odds
‘Twixt Yankee pedlers and old gods;
Where Pindus-born Arachthus took
The guise of any grist-mill brook,
And dread Olympus at his will
Became a huckleberry hill.

A careless boy that night he seemed;
But at his desk he had the look
And air of one who wisely schemed,
And hostage from the future took
In trainëd thought and lore of book.
Large-brained, clear-eyed, of such as he
Shall Freedom’s young apostles be,
Who, following in War’s ****** trail,
Shall every lingering wrong assail;
All chains from limb and spirit strike,
Uplift the black and white alike;
Scatter before their swift advance
The darkness and the ignorance,
The pride, the lust, the squalid sloth,
Which nurtured Treason’s monstrous growth,
Made ****** pastime, and the hell
Of prison-torture possible;
The cruel lie of caste refute,
Old forms remould, and substitute
For Slavery’s lash the freeman’s will,
For blind routine, wise-handed skill;
A school-house plant on every hill,
Stretching in radiate nerve-lines thence
The quick wires of intelligence;
Till North and South together brought
Shall own the same electric thought,
In peace a common flag salute,
And, side by side in labor’s free
And unresentful rivalry,
Harvest the fields wherein they fought.

Another guest that winter night
Flashed back from lustrous eyes the light.
Unmarked by time, and yet not young,
The honeyed music of her tongue
And words of meekness scarcely told
A nature passionate and bold,

Strong, self-concentred, spurning guide,
Its milder features dwarfed beside
Her unbent will’s majestic pride.
She sat among us, at the best,
A not unfeared, half-welcome guest,
Rebuking with her cultured phrase
Our homeliness of words and ways.
A certain pard-like, treacherous grace
Swayed the lithe limbs and drooped the lash,
Lent the white teeth their dazzling flash;
And under low brows, black with night,
Rayed out at times a dangerous light;
The sharp heat-lightnings of her face
Presaging ill to him whom Fate
Condemned to share her love or hate.
A woman tropical, intense
In thought and act, in soul and sense,
She blended in a like degree
The ***** and the devotee,
Revealing with each freak or feint
The temper of Petruchio’s Kate,
The raptures of Siena’s saint.
Her tapering hand and rounded wrist
Had facile power to form a fist;
The warm, dark languish of her eyes
Was never safe from wrath’s surprise.
Brows saintly calm and lips devout
Knew every change of scowl and pout;
And the sweet voice had notes more high
And shrill for social battle-cry.

Since then what old cathedral town
Has missed her pilgrim staff and gown,
What convent-gate has held its lock
Against the challenge of her knock!
Through Smyrna’s plague-hushed thoroughfares,
Up sea-set Malta’s rocky stairs,
Gray olive slopes of hills that hem
Thy tombs and shrines, Jerusalem,
Or startling on her desert throne
The crazy Queen of Lebanon
With claims fantastic as her own,
Her tireless feet have held their way;
And still, unrestful, bowed, and gray,
She watches under Eastern skies,
With hope each day renewed and fresh,
The Lord’s quick coming in the flesh,
Whereof she dreams and prophesies!
Where’er her troubled path may be,
The Lord’s sweet pity with her go!
The outward wayward life we see,
The hidden springs we may not know.
Nor is it given us to discern
What threads the fatal sisters spun,
Through what ancestral years has run
The sorrow with the woman born,
What forged her cruel chain of moods,
What set her feet in solitudes,
And held the love within her mute,
What mingled madness in the blood,
A life-long discord and annoy,
Water of tears with oil of joy,
And hid within the folded bud
Perversities of flower and fruit.
It is not ours to separate
The tangled skein of will and fate,
To show what metes and bounds should stand
Upon the soul’s debatable land,
And between choice and Providence
Divide the circle of events;
But He who knows our frame is just,
Merciful and compassionate,
And full of sweet assurances
And hope for all the language is,
That He remembereth we are dust!

At last the great logs, crumbling low,
Sent out a dull and duller glow,
The bull’s-eye watch that hung in view,
Ticking its weary circuit through,
Pointed with mutely warning sign
Its black hand to the hour of nine.
That sign the pleasant circle broke:
My uncle ceased his pipe to smoke,
Knocked from its bowl the refuse gray,
And laid it tenderly away;
Then roused himself to safely cover
The dull red brands with ashes over.
And while, with care, our mother laid
The work aside, her steps she stayed
One moment, seeking to express
Her grateful sense of happiness
For food and shelter, warmth and health,
And love’s contentment more than wealth,
With simple wishes (not the weak,
Vain prayers which no fulfilment seek,
But such as warm the generous heart,
O’er-prompt to do with Heaven its part)
That none might lack, that bitter night,
For bread and clothing, warmth and light.

Within our beds awhile we heard
The wind that round the gables roared,
With now and then a ruder shock,
Which made our very bedsteads rock.
We heard the loosened clapboards tost,
The board-nails snapping in the frost;
And on us, through the unplastered wall,
Felt the light sifted snow-flakes fall.
But sleep stole on, as sleep will do
When hearts are light and life is new;
Faint and more faint the murmurs grew,
Till in the summer-land of dreams
They softened to the sound of streams,
Low stir of leaves, and dip of oars,
And lapsing waves on quiet shores.
Of merry voices high and clear;
And saw the teamsters drawing near
To break the drifted highways out.
Down the long hillside treading slow
We saw the half-buried oxen go,
Shaking the snow from heads uptost,
Their straining nostrils white with frost.
Before our door the straggling train
Drew up, an added team to gain.
The elders threshed their hands a-cold,
Passed, with the cider-mug, their jokes
From lip to lip; the younger folks
Down the loose snow-banks, wrestling, rolled,
Then toiled again the cavalcade
O’er windy hill, through clogged ravine,
And woodland paths that wound between
Low drooping pine-boughs winter-weighed.
From every barn a team afoot,
At every house a new recruit,
Where, drawn by Nature’s subtlest law,
Haply the watchful young men saw
Sweet doorway pictures of the curls
And curious eyes of merry girls,
Lifting their hands in mock defence
Against the snow-ball’s compliments,
And reading in each missive tost
The charm with Eden never lost.
We heard once more the sleigh-bells’ sound;
And, following where the teamsters led,
The wise old Doctor went his round,
Just pausing at our door to say,
In the brief autocratic way
Of one who, prompt at Duty’s call,
Was free to urge her claim on all,
That some poor neighbor sick abed
At night our mother’s aid would need.
For, one in generous thought and deed,
What mattered in the sufferer’s sight
The Quaker matron’s inward light,
The Doctor’s mail of Calvin’s creed?
All hearts confess the saints elect
Who, twain in faith, in love agree,
And melt not in an acid sect
The Christian pearl of charity!

So days went on: a week had passed
Since the great world was heard from last.
The Almanac we studied o’er,
Read and reread our little store
Of books and pamphlets, scarce a score;
One harmless novel, mostly hid
From younger eyes, a book forbid,
And poetry, (or good or bad,
A single book was all we had,)
Where Ellwood’s meek, drab-skirted Muse,
A stranger to the heathen Nine,
Sang, with a somewhat nasal whine,
The wars of David and the Jews.
At last the floundering carrier bore
The village paper to our door.
Lo! broadening outward as we read,
To warmer zones the horizon spread
In panoramic length unrolled
We saw the marvels that it told.
Before us passed the painted Creeks,
A   nd daft McGregor on his raids
In Costa Rica’s everglades.
And up Taygetos winding slow
Rode Ypsilanti’s Mainote Greeks,
A Turk’s head at each saddle-bow!
Welcome to us its week-old news,
Its corner for the rustic Muse,
Its monthly gauge of snow and rain,
Its record, mingling in a breath
The wedding bell and dirge of death:
Jest, anecdote, and love-lorn tale,
The latest culprit sent to jail;
Its hue and cry of stolen and lost,
Its vendue sales and goods at cost,
And traffic calling loud for gain.
We felt the stir of hall and street,
The pulse of life that round us beat;
The chill embargo of the snow
Was melted in the genial glow;
Wide swung again our ice-locked door,
And all the world was ours once more!

Clasp, Angel of the backword look
And folded wings of ashen gray
And voice of echoes far away,
The brazen covers of thy book;
The weird palimpsest old and vast,
Wherein thou hid’st the spectral past;
Where, closely mingling, pale and glow
The characters of joy and woe;
The monographs of outlived years,
Or smile-illumed or dim with tears,
Green hills of life that ***** to death,
And haunts of home, whose vistaed trees
Shade off to mournful cypresses
With the white amaranths underneath.
Even while I look, I can but heed
The restless sands’ incessant fall,
Importunate hours that hours succeed,
Each clamorous with its own sharp need,
And duty keeping pace with all.
Shut down and clasp with heavy lids;
I hear again the voice that bids
The dreamer leave his dream midway
For larger hopes and graver fears:
Life greatens in these later years,
The century’s aloe flowers to-day!

Yet, haply, in some lull of life,
Some Truce of God which breaks its strife,
The worldling’s eyes shall gather dew,
Dreaming in throngful city ways
Of winter joys his boyhood knew;
And dear and early friends — the few
Who yet remain — shall pause to view
These Flemish pictures of old days;
Sit with me by the homestead hearth,
And stretch the hands of memory forth
To warm them at the wood-fire’s blaze!
And thanks untraced to lips unknown
Shall greet me like the odors blown
From unseen meadows newly mown,
Wood-fringed, the wayside gaze beyond;
The traveller owns the grateful sense
Of sweetness near, he knows not whence,
And, pausing, takes with forehead bare
The benediction of the air.

Written in  1865
In its day, 'twas a best-seller and earned significant income for Whittier

BLM activists are so stupid that they defaced a statue of Whittier  unaware that he was an ardent abolitionist 🤣
Tracie Bulkley Sep 2014
I'm the next act on stage.
It's about ******* time all that needed to be said
Finds a way to get out.

So here's the thing:
I've made mistakes
I've ****** up a lot, and I'm willing to admit that
Because every ******, I learn from it
Unfortunately sometimes it takes more than once.

So my first big ******:
I made love.
18 years old, questioning everything
ANGRY for the first time in my life
Really truly ANGRY
Like I've never been before.
So angry at a God that presumed
To ask everything of me and give nothing back
Who took and took and took and took
And let others take from me, from others
Especially women, a long long time ago
And maybe they were stupid
And maybe they were awful people
And maybe they deserved it but they were STILL PEOPLE
Still women
Still girls like me
Scared and lonely
Hungry for an outlet for all of the ****** passion
That had built up inside.

So I was mad
And I felt alone
Except for one thing
He who I now look back on and wonder what
My rational brain could have seen
In a hundred thousand eons of pain and suffering and loneliness
What it could have seen in a rat
In a **** like him
But he wasn't that bad
I'm just angry

We made love
We loved each other
And I had anger
So we made love.
As if loving each other made it alright
Because what they never tell you in Sunday school
What they never really get across with all the
"Shou shalt not's" and "Don't touch that's"
About chastity
What they do tell you is don't do it
But they never ******* tell you why
Because it isn't going to last.
It really just isn't
Even though you think it will
Put that stupidity aside and see for JUST A SECOND
It won't.
Just assume it wont.
And you'll be with someone else
And they'll be hurt
They will actually be ******* SHATTERED
That you didn't save anything special for them
That you have nothing to give them that you didn't first give to someone else.

So yeah, I left.
I'm usually the one that leaves.
Out of 10's or 20's of loves
I'm the one that usually loses it first
Except for twice...
Nah... Nah now it's thrice.
And I loved again
And left
And I loved again
And left.
And at one point I felt sorry for what I did
But nah, that was an illusion
Brought on by the tears he wept when I told him
I had nothing left to give only to him.

Then I met another Him
And I told him early because
I was SO SICK AND ******* TIRED
Of having to hide what I had done
Pretending to feel guilty about making love
To a little **** who I loved once
But no, he wasn't that bad
He didn't know any better
I'm the ****. I am.

So I told him
And he got scared
But then he came back...
Oh my god he came back, I thought he would leave.
And he held me tighter
And he loved me more
And he forgave me
He moved on
He trusted me
But back up a little.

And breathe.

His name was Hunter.
And when I met him, I was dating the guy I thought I would change for
And a week later I left.
And I immediately got googly-eyed over Hunter
But also someone else.
His name was Collin.
Collin got to me first, because,
Crazy thing
He seemed more mature
And like he could handle it better if I didn't want to be attached yet
So I told him I didn't want anything serious
And we made out.

And then I started falling more for Hunter
Because Collin was a one-upper.
And Hunter was sweet and interesting
Intelligent in speech
On our first date
We discussed Neitzche in a ****** local burger joint
And he was beautiful
In my life I don't think I will ever find Adonis in the flesh again
And eventually, after trying very hard
I got him to kiss me
God how he kisses is like tasting wine
And has the same affect on my mind
And excites my body beyond what I've felt before
And that lasted the whole time I was with him
It still hasn't gone away
To this day if he kissed me
I think my cells would fly apart with joy

Now here's where my shittiness comes back in
And makes everything confusing
So I was making out with Collin one night
And Hunter the next
And I told them both
I ******* TOLD HIM
"We are not dating."
I said that.
Exactly that.
Meaning there is NO commitment
NO expectations
YOU can do whatever you want with whoever

Eventually Hunter persuaded me to be his girl.
So I basically just started ignoring Collin
Stopped making out
Stopped hanging out
Stopped talking pretty much
So I could be with just the one I had COMMITTED myself to.
And we were happy.
Until I told him.

Then he was hurt.
He felt betrayed
Even though I ******* TOLD HIM
During that time
He felt he had claim on me during that time
Just because he had kissed me
He said "I wish you had told me how little a kiss means to you
I would never have ******* kissed you."
And I got ANGRY
And then you know what?

I said I'm sorry
I said you're right
I said "I put his feelings before yours, that was wrong, and it will never happen again."
I should've never done that.
I didn't do anything wrong.
And I gave him power over me
That no one should ever have.

We spent the last month or two
In despairing bliss
Knowing that at the end of the college semester
Which had been so short
He would go home to Georgia
And I would return to the mountains
And I had played the long-distance game before
And would not do it again

I should have just taken what I could get

So the last day, we helped each other pack
We cried
So much
Into each other's shirts and shoulders
Hearts breaking but hopeful
For a promise
I promised him
That at the end of the summer
We would both be available
So that we could try again

So I cried my way home
And he took his plane
And we Skyped until 2 his time every night
After about another month
The usual sadness and loneliness hit
Being home is bad for me
I lose sense of up and down
As I feel my wheels spinning on the ice
In the freezing summer between springs
I missed him
So much that I felt empty
I ached and hungered and died every day
Though it was nice to see my old friends again
But the worst thing happened
I remembered that I like flirting
And I had already ****** up once

Why not do it again?
Three more times?

For two months I didn't make love
I ******
Cuddled for a bit with a friend
Then he'd admit he liked me
I'd tell him I wasn't going to date this summer
And he'd get hard
And he'd get insistent
"We can just be friends with benefits"
He'd say
He genuinely liked me
They always did
One even said he loved me
I had no such emotion for them
I just wanted to not feel so alone

So we'd cuddle, talk, kiss, ****,
And I'd go home every time still empty
Still cold
Still alone
And sad
And guilty
And for two months I wandered around in that hell
Wondering why it wasn't getting any warmer
Wondering how the **** I was still alone
With all these men that wanted me so bad
And every night as I fell asleep I thought about Hunter
Oh God... I could never tell him
No, he would never understand

And he didn't.
When I finally told him
Not because it was any of his ******* business
We were not dating
There was no commitment
No promises except that I'd be there in the end
We kept admitting love for one another
Which was a mistake in retrospect
But he had no right to feel such claim on me

The worst part was that he had asked me over the summer
And I had lied and justified
And gotten angry
SO ******* ANGRY at him
Every time he got suspicious
And I got angry
Because I was guilty
Especially because it wasn't helping
And all I wanted was him

So I told him
Not because he had a right to know
But because I finally trusted him enough
And wanted no secrets between us
Wanted one SINGLE ******* PERSON
Who I could show my whole self to
Tell everything to
Just one
And I wanted it to be him
And he was angry

And oh god for days he was angry
And every night he made me cry
Because I told him to let it out
That it might help
So he called me *****
He called me ****
He called me cheater
He told me that nothing meant anything to me
That nothing was special to me
Nothing physical would ever be special or worth anything from me
But... But I still don't understand
That was important to me
That was everything to me
And I had given it to him
I don't understand
Why he walked all over it

That's enough
I can't talk about this anymore right now
Ask me again another day
Just not right now

Alright I guess I should anyway

So the last month of summer
I was with no one
I spent every night Skyping him
Every night either crying in the hurt of his angry words
Or singing my love and praises for him
And when he went on a trip and couldn't call me
I took pictures and screenshots every night
To show him I wasn't out again
I was at home
Waiting for him

A month it went on like that
Until it was finally one week before school
I drove down to the college, picked him up
He greeted me at the door and I lept into his arms
And he held me and we cried
And there was love
And I felt complete
And I could finally breathe again
And the gasps wracked my body with pleasure and pain

I took him and we spent a week of heaven
In my home in the mountain
He met my family
And they all loved him
And we talked
Once in a while there would be a sad moment
But he said he'd try
He said he loved me
And I had hope...

Why didn't he try?
He left me when we got back to school
Why didn't he stay
I don't understand
I've tried so hard
I've mended fences with God
Hoping he can help me
But it's taking time
And it doesn't mean anything to Hunter
I told him all of the truth
All of it
And laid myself at his feet
Just asking that when he was done abusing me
Done being angry
Done with his vengeance
That he would love me
And keep me
And stay
But he left
I don't understand
I tried. So hard.

And I can't let go of him
How can I?
I invested my whole self in the warm and golden dream
Of lying in his arms at night
I changed myself to be what he wanted
I changed my mind to match his
What more could I do?

Don't I deserve forgiveness?
Haven't I earned just one last chance?

— The End —