when I’m happy and calm I wear my stagnation balm I can’t find anything inspiring when my sanity is not hanging by a string it makes me miss the former chaos in my life that inspired me to write, write, write when I was emotionally unstable the words just seemed to fly onto the paper now that my life is boring the muse is not roaring maybe it’s time to try to stop these unproductive sighs I will no longer live the writer block’s lie yes, I can write when I’m sane inspiration doesn’t need to wane inspiration can be found in the mundane
last time I had my last first kiss it was wasted on a middle age scorpio I wore a cute summer dress with red lipstick along with my feminine charm I didn’t have to lay it on thick for him to desire me for him to want to kiss me he would’ve fuck me I hadn’t been on my period his hands roamed almost every inch of my body as if it belong to him for the 5 minutes we made out while I dissociated and pretended I was somewhere else I was numb and devoid of feeling anything Am I even a person? He said things about how I was so hot and sexy and how sad it was that couldn’t screw me And I laughed flirtatiously following the script I’ve had since I could remember and I felt no desire or any pleasure if anything I was repulsed by him, by myself hating how even at 40, I was still pulling the same bullshit since I was 16 making myself an object of desire for me to play with and then something snapped in me that day a couple of hours after that date I sent him a snap along with all the other 7 dudes I was entertaining and keeping as options the same message, “I’m sorry, I’m not in a place to date or even to have men as friends, I wish you the best” it was hard as I had always been addicted to men’s attention and validation but something told me it was time to switch the narrative even though I knew it would be lonely
many took bets on how long they’d last between the age gap, the difference in cultures they didn’t stand a chance yet, they kind of made it work for more than a decade yet, they still raised three fine young men for almost 20 years and while their incompatibility caught up to them and they had to end their love story they rebuilt it on the foundation of the love they once shared and in the best interest of their children and evolved into a healthy story of friendship where any resentment and anger has been buried and there are no hard feelings over past grievances where they support one another and are finally the parents their children always deserved
the future of me is not written yet I have to understand that all I can do is write for her who will still question her existence or why things happened the way they did or what the fuck happened to her I know myself too well it doesn’t matter how far I’m in my self discovery journey I’ll always have questions Its my insatiable curiosity I can only hope that the future me has leaned into self love More than ever before and still understands she and her kids are her top priorities Anyone else is expendable in her little universe of love
the breakup was always a larger than life event in my mind because of the catastrophic pain it caused because it was someone I thought could be my forever so when he gave me the electronic pink slip I used it as a catalyst for change I broke away with my idea of what made me attractive and accessible to men, and instead, I focused on what made me feel good about myself and learned to accept myself as the complicated and crazy woman that I am I finally understood I was always a Queen Underneath layers of princess skin Armed myself with poetry and confidence that breakup changed me like previous breakups did however, this one was the key to the transformation I needed to become the woman I was always meant to be
me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence accepting we were always meant to be friends no longer harboring resentment about our failed story of romance Focusing on the long road ahead of us Divorced and raising kids in a world full of oxymorons, in a world that will try to make them fit into unrealistic expectations of what it means to be human me and my ex drive towards the moon in silence putting away our differences and any conflicts And putting our childrens’ best interest first understanding they’re the best thing to come out of the failure of us
“I’m not sorry, I wouldn’t change a thing” -Conan Gray
I never loved you, you were a distraction an escape from my suburban mommy life I wanted to feel sexy, still young and fun so I used you to make me feel alive to awaken the sexy vixen in me the one I had sacrificed when I fell in the stability of a relationship and now I look back on it You did nothing wrong, you were just a scapegoat a villain I need in my story of love and lust to not feel shame and guilt
Beneath the fallen leaves lies my footprints and the footprints of lives unknown on roads taken with regrets Beneath the fallen leaves lies the stories from the trash not picked up-a used condom here, a hair tie there a letter lost Beneath the fallen leaves lies everything unsaid and tears that have fallen
I used the title of this book to inspire the title of this poem
the evidence of my emotional affair stares back at me- taunting me with a smirk- sexy photos exchanged while both of us were legally bonded to other people flirty emails sent back and forth to satisfy my craving for attention I couldn’t get from my husband It was fun and sexy, wasn’t it? We were our own Gen X, low rent version of Ashley Madison seeing how much both of us could get away with- except that for years, it hurt me and caused me so many trust issues after learning you had been married the entire time of our decade long flirtation and you acted like a psychopath when I confronted you with it- like my feelings of betrayal weren’t valid, and you tried to gaslight me into believing I was a crazy bitch and a few years later, I’m divorced and reflect on our torrid affair and shame takes a hold of me as well as regret over that day in the parking lot of second and charles when I gave into my yearning for you- I try to hold compassion for the atrocity of our infidelity and for the younger version of me who was so selfish and allowed her ego to guide her And allowed herself to continue her pseudo friendship With you- allowing you to use me for emotional labor while you slept next to your wife and lied to her and me I’ve tried for years to find forgiveness for you even empathy, tried to not always see you as villain in my story But forgiveness, compassion, and empathy for you Evades me And I’ve come to the conclusion- You’ll always be the most toxic story in my life- One of the three things in my life I’ll forever regret the one who should have left my life once I made vows to my husband but instead you stood there selfishly pushing your lust driven agenda on me- not respecting my marriage or yours one of the three people in my life I’ll never forgive for the impact of trauma You made on me
I looked for a sense of home, a sense of identity in all of the wrong Places – man after man Shopping spree after shopping spree, drink after drink all were temporary fixes for something I never had a stable home, a true sense of identity until one day I realized these temporary bandaids were never or will ever be my home because that sense of home, that sense of identity lies within myself
I saw my mother kill the spark in my father He was my age with many dreams, But I’m different,so different No matter who or What gets in my way,I’ll Knock them out Figuratively or literally to get the life I deserve to accomplish my goals The spark in me stays in me and giving a determination to keep going and to NEVER, EVER GIVE UP!
