it’s hard to explain-
the roller coaster of
this space shuttle take-off
of everything i feel.
at times, i think to myself,
why am i still trying to
make sense of it all?
i should just settle back in
the moment i am in.
but sometimes i want to scream
so loud at the top of my lungs
when i think about all of
the curves on this winding road.
i feel like a fogged up window
and the defrost setting is broken,
but i also feel like a sauna
on a cold winter day.
do you understand the heat
that rages between us
every time our bodies come
feet within touching?
can you hear the desire that
is bubbling from my stomach?
do you see how much i want
you to see me, for me?
it’s really more than any metaphor
more than any amount of words
i can put on the page-
there are a million butterflies
flying within me
and i’m still without a net.
i want to throw everything away
on the days when my eyes
feel heavier than elephants,
when i am trying to defend myself
for the hundredth time today,
when my words sound more like
murmurs of the ceiling fan
instead of well-contrived
the day is quickly approaching
when i will leave my mother’s nest
and hopefully, this time it will be
i am by for more ready and more
capable than i was before, and i think
i am willing to do whatever it takes
to make this decision final.
my life has been on pause for too long
and i want to reboot-
i want to form into the person i have
always wanted to be.
i am making positive movements
in the direction i feel i am supposed to go.
i have plans and i will keep them.
i will not only find myself,
but find my calling.
it will be less than two weeks
before my life can really begin.
He didn’t mean to bite so deep,
to crack teeth on bone
and suck out marrow,
but he did.
There is a reason
we have skin,
but reason is lost
when he slides underneath,
when skin is split open
just because i try to rid
of the negativity, does not mean
i only see the negative.
don’t you see, i can see both
sides of it all-
i embrace all of the positives,
but i see the darkness, too.
when i speak of fear,
it does not necessarily mean
that i am afraid.
when i explain to you that i
am upset or hurting,
it doesn’t mean that i am
always that way.
we are constantly changing,
and i see life for all of the
spectrum, not just one side.
it is naive to only recognize
the gleeful, happy part of
there is more to living life
than laughter and bliss.
true as it is that those feelings
can be best of all,
i find beauty in sadness, in fear,
and sometimes even in anger.
it is important to hold all
of the colors in emotion in life,
not just the prettier hues.
living life through ups and downs,
that is what makes the beauty.
i don’t want 70s and sunshine
every day of the year,
i want rain and snow and sleet
the desire is looming within
this tired body,
a force so strong i can feel
it turning me into a person
i wish i could run from.
as much as i want to ignore it,
to make it all disappear,
i let my yearning take hold
of my entire being.
my hopes, my fears, and
every shade of doubt is
lurking just beyond the confines
of my imagination.
i always liked to say that i
am driven by my heart,
but these days i’m afraid i’m
not so sure.
i’ve created an evil within me,
one that is sucking all of the
simplicity from my mind
like a leech.
there is this thing that i cannot
begin to control,
and i feel like it is growing
soon i will become its victim,
if i am not careful it will
it is difficult for me to say
that i even want to be rid of it,
maybe i am still holding
onto the promise of serenity-
of greener pastures,
or whatever else is waiting
beyond sole-sided yen.
From the fourth month that we were together, I knew that I loved you. But you said you needed to take things slow, so I never said a word.
After our fifth month together, you left to work on a ship in Alaska. You sent a love letter and wrote that you’d be dreaming of the day you’d return to me. You wrote that you cherished me. You wrote that you needed me.
And I felt safe with you. I felt loved by you.
But then you ended it after sixth months while you were still away—only three weeks after you sent the letter. You told me we’d just been hanging out. You told me there wasn’t any romance.
My head was instantly swarmed with memories of holding you and laughing with you; of that night we drank too much champagne and stayed up late kissing and sharing stories; of our first date, when we walked along the pier and you told me about the ships and how you hoped to sail them one day; the spice of your smell on my pillow in the morning; the way you’d wrap your arms around my waist and nestle your head in the crook of my neck that fits you so well. Every warm moment we shared came rushing back to assault me.
But the most painful memories are those of what might have been…
I cannot stop imagining what we could have had. I think about us in season’s we never got to experience together. What I might’ve given you for your birthday in the fall. When we might’ve kissed beneath the mistletoe. When you might’ve finally told me you that loved me.
We might’ve had the chance to be something beautiful, or we might’ve ended up a disaster. But you cut us loose before we ever got the chance to find out. It’s the might’ve been that kills me. It’s the might’ve been that broke my heart.
Two other women, also breast cancer survivors, said their husbands left them after they were diagnosed. Both had to have mastectomies (in case anyone doesn’t know, this is the surgical operation to remove one or both breasts).
The first woman said her husband told her that he would rather see her dead than see her lose her breasts. The second woman had her operation and waited all day to be picked up by her husband, who never arrived. By nightfall, one of the nurses offered to give her a ride, and she came home to find the house empty.
Obviously, these are extreme cases of a man’s reaction to his wife’s breast cancer, but this is what I see when I see the “I ♥ Boobies” bracelets. I see love of the body parts, not the person being treated—not the patient, not the victim, not the survivor.
oh my god this is heartbreaking
few things in life can make me
feel so complete-
the way you brush my hair over
the back of my shoulder,
the smell of lilac and the quiet
humming of the bees,
right before rain hits the air,
the scent captivating my senses.
a foggy morning, as the sun
begins to rise,
bringing out the songs of the
birds and waking me gently.
when you look at me so longingly,
the only word leaving your lips-
"baby," you say,
and then i know i am yours.
the first sip of whiskey on a frosty
the feel of warm blankets
after returning to my own bed.
i would trade every luxury to experience
these moments of happiness,
day after day,
year after year,
until the moon stops rising.
let you in when i had nothing
but hope in my hands.
let hope guide me until i was
lost, more lost than i had been
since i was a young child
still learning the names of the
the lost-ness grew inside me
like a garden weed,
and spread to the ends of
and when it could grow no more
i sprouted wings and flew
high into the night sky,
trying to reach the stars above.
when the air became too thin,
i fell for you, and landed
on the ground.
i felt the sting of being alone,
wings broken and fingertips
but i lived to tell the tale,
and here i am writing,
a lost, weed covered, hope filled
with nothing else to give to you.
i spend upward of 35 hours a week
with the people i work with,
and on average i see you for maybe
a full day, if i am lucky, including
the hours we are asleep next to each
other. those are seemingly close
numbers when you put them side by side,
but at the same time it is vastly different.
i see my coworkers for a good part of
my waking hours, day after day.
with you, i look forward to a handful of
messages back and forth, and maybe
(if i am lucky) a phone call.
more waiting, and i still have the entire
workweek to get through before the
possibility of having you close by my
side becomes reality.
i grasp onto those minutes as tight as
i can, because i know the time flies by.
and every time i leave you, i feel the
dull ache in my chest.
i know the waiting game restarts as
soon as you kiss me goodbye.
no matter how many times you tell me
"it will only be a week before i see you again,"
i still feel tears well up in my eyes
thinking about that stretch of time.
and when i’m not working, or sleeping,
i’m wishing i could be with you.
perhaps i’ll find time one night to dull the
empty feeling with alcohol and fake smiles,
but it is all a ruse.
i may forget who i am for a night because
the person i am with you is someone different.
not even the best version of me,
but the me that is happier, briefly, than
i have been before.
and it’s really fucking hard
to be on this teeter-totter of emptiness
and fullness week after week.
it’s all becoming a repeating pattern,
and i can only hope that the waiting will
because i can feel it wearing on me
faster than the aging that is creeping
slowly into my knees and knuckles.
there is a little madness in us all,
it is what makes us the extraordinary
beings that we are.
sometimes we dye our hair purple
we jump into freezing lakes completely
we make poor decisions
and poorer decisions
and we find ourselves penniless and smiling.
we laugh uncontrollably
and scream as loud as we can,
just to see if we can hear our own echo.
we drive a little too fast down
and find ourselves lying in the middle
ready to run as soon as we spot headlights.
we dance in the middle of restaurants
and cry ourselves to sleep,
and when we can’t come up with any answers,
we do it all again.
it is okay to feel it all,
every emotion in the spectrum of life,
and it’s okay to break down
when it all becomes to much.
what is most important is to keep going,
even when it all seems like too much.
we can accept our weirdness
and seek out weirdness in others.
it’s okay to be the slightly off-color person
that makes you smile inside,
because there is nothing more beautiful
we are all a little bit mad, anyway,
and that’s what makes this life
more than just a waiting game for
our final breaths.