What I Thought

I thought missed 

  • Your smile
  • Your touch
  • Your kiss
  • Your eyes
  • Your gentle tenderness

But what I really miss is how you made me feel, like no one could hold a candle. That there was no one that could be as grateful for me the way you showed me. The way you loved me helped put me back together. I miss that. 

I don’t miss the way you broke my heart. I don’t miss the way you said goodbye to me and left me crumpled in the floor. I am not going to miss tears I shed. 

I’m not going to miss the gut wrenching sadness with every sad song that makes me feel. No, I kept asking myself what was it going to take for me to heal. You’re always in my head, as real as if you were in front of me, beside me, in my peripheral vision. It’s not you that I can’t get over. I’m heartbroken thinking that no one will ever make me feel the way you did. 

The idea of you. That idea that I will ever find that adoration, that affection. 

What I thought was I was missing, missing what might have been. What frightens me the most is your lies that lead us to the implosion and that I never even had an inkling of. If you lied about a whole other relationship, how do I know everything else wasn’t a lie? 

What if I am really that dispicable that my ex husband said I was? Worthless and not worthy of anyone’s love? See, I thought that everything I fought so hard for, respect, affection, joy was really deserving to me. I’m scared you lied about that, too. 

I miss that –  all of it. I’m scared you were as close as I’m ever going to get. What might have been between us I’m frantic I won’t find it again. 

I miss the thought of you. I thought you put me on that pedestal because it was my time to shine. Life has a funny way of repaying me back for all the faith I ever had. 

I think you know how utterly devastated you left me. I hope you know every loving word, gesture, and even action I bestowed upon you are as unique as I am. I hope you miss my kindness, thoughtfulness and love. All the good I miss about you that you brought to me, I know how to deliver to someone else. 

I’m down right now, but I will get back up. I know that’s what you want. I know you didn’t hurt me on purpose. I know when I came into your life you didn’t know it would turn into what it did. 

But hurt me, you did. Hurt her, you did. I wish you well but I also wish upon you pain and regret, as to you’d curl up in a ball and wail and cry until absolutely spent. And repeat. 
Dmh 

Can’t Think of a Title

You can always see your nose; it’s just that your brain refuses to acknowledge it.  Why then, does my brain keep mulling over and over painful aspects of my life? When I would rather forget about it and get some sleep? I can doze in front of the television or get drowsy trying to read a book. The minute I turn off the TV, kindle, or lamp to snuggle down to sleep my brain churns conversations over and over or a snippet of a song. 

I don’t know if everyone does this but this has got to be the most maddening trait I have. How do I stop? Where’s my “off” switch? 

Getting There, Better

I will carry on. I will be okay. Nights like this and you’re everywhere. 

Rhythmic pounding of the rain, songbird that keeps singing like she has something to say, roar of the overhead plane. As gentle as my cat’s purr, as soft as her whiskers on my cheek. I feel you in my heartbeat, I hear you in the tick of the clock. I see you in my eyes and see what I want to see. But that isn’t you. 

Getting through this will lead me to get over this. All I need is time and time is all I have. That’s all I ever offered you and it was always enough. 

It’s been a few days since I cried my eyes out. Getting teary now. I take a deep, shaky breath, sit up straight, if that makes me feel better for a small time it’s still progress. I’m getting there. I’m better. 

Like Hell, Only Cleaner

It was never supposed to be anything but basic. You weren’t supposed to mean anything. When it ended it was over. Finished. I didn’t get closure, this is like being in hell, only cleaner.

When it was good with us,  you showered me with gifts of yourself, I took all I needed and then some. You gave of yourself freely, openly. As I leaned, you gladly propped me up. I let you in, inside my world and inside my heart. 

Warm, kind, caring. You made sure that the bestowed compliments were not only what you saw. It took me a while for me but once I noticed, I noticed. You restored my damaged and fragile ego. 

The day you told me you got caught cheating, I acted as if you cheated on me. In my eyes, you did, anyway. I thought I was the only one. 

What if she hadn’t seen our messages, would you still be with me? Yes, I think you would. No matter that you lied to us both, I still believed every sweet thank you whispered. The thing is, I found myself thinking that had I went in knowing I wouldn’t had fallen so hard. Nor would I cared like I did. But she did, you aren’t and I already did. 

We both said mean things. You weren’t as mean, (albeit that you had a secret lover besides me, yeah, that’s pretty damn mean.) I’ve been told when I’m hurt I’m a cornered cat. Fangs and claws and raising hell. We were just getting to the good part, just past the mystery.  I was thinking we had fairy dust, magic, built on mutual respect. 

  • It is what it is. For me to get over it and not see those kind eyes and smile everytime I close my eyes I will subject myself to torture. Several times a day until I forget how bad it hurts, then I can heal. I will hear every sad song, cry my eyes out,  be angry, be sad, until you’re a fond memory. Just like hell, only cleaner. 
  • Knock me down, I’ll get back up. I’ll wallow for a while, that’s how I process. 
  • Lay me out cold, I shall seek the sun. 
  • I can’t heal until I acknowledge the pain.  

The sun always shines sweeter after a heavy rain.
You left this for me and it rings true. 

I move on like a sinners prayer; I let go like a levee breaks. /Walk away as if I don’t care./ Learn to shoulder my mistakes./ I’m built to fade like your favorite song. /Gettin restless when there’s no need, laugh as your stories ramble on. /Break my heart but it won’t bleed. / My only friends are pirates, that’s just who I am. /But I’m better as a memory than as your man. 

 DMH 3 May 2016 

Kenny Chesney “Better as a Memory”

    Oops I did it Again

    I said I wasn’t falling for anymore bullshit. Only people with good intentions. I thought that’s all David was. A good man with good intentions. 

    I let him tell me I was beautiful, let him into my home, into my bed and into my heart. He adored me. Constantly sang my praises. Marveled at me just walking across the room. I let him admire me, felt totally comfortable being naked with him. He loved everything about me and couldn’t get enough. My eyes he said he got lost in to my smile he said slayed him. 

    I was dating a really nice man before David named Mike who was just as scared as I was. Baby steps. He would lean into me when we talked, touched my arm or my hand, gave me a hug the first time we met but has never kissed me. Recently as we were talking and walking his hand brushed mine or maybe my hand brushed his but I felt like I had just touched electricity. Woah. 

    When I thought that David was becoming more I stopped the daily chats with Mike. I knew he felt me pull away and I prayed I didn’t hurt him. It kinda hurt me.  I am human and I was craving physical contact. At least that’s the excuse I’m using. 

    The thing is David wasn’t mine. He never was. And I didn’t know. He lied to me. And I fell for the bullshit. I’ve tried to go back over every conversation, every text, and I still don’t see it. He is good. 

    The last time we were together we laid there in each other’s arms and joked about feeling so good we could bottle it and sell it. Bottle o bliss we called it. When he left that afternoon I texted him a few hours later and said God I miss you. And God I did. We talked several times throughout the day. That night he called to say goodnight we talked about how tired we were. “Must be a side effect from bliss.” he said. 

    The next morning and afternoon we talked several more times. I went to see my daddy and when I was leaving I saw I had missed a text. It was a hello sweetheart, and I responded with “I’m at my dad’s be home in half an hour”. 

    I got home and fixed me a drink, sitting on my porch. I looked at my phone to see I had a new text. 2 parts. I saw the second part first. I saw “I’m very sorry…” So I opened the first one and it said something to the fact his girlfriend found out about me and he was very sorry but he couldn’t see me anymore and for me to always be good to myself. The last one was “I am very sorry, this is my fault.”

    There’s been screaming, crying, pouting, feeling sorry for myself. More crying.  

     I’ll be okay. Getting over it means getting through it. 
    DMH