Was it my pen,
my poetry,
or my heart,
that wrote you into
existence.
You bleed
inspiration
into my fingertips;
and out comes
my magic…
My pen is usually my sword,
but with you…
it is my source,
my light,
my inspiration…
my soft landing.
And out of the blue,
God gifted me with you.
When I was ready to receive,
God returned what I always believed,
Was written to be,
For me.
All those times I fell to my knees to pray,
I knew I was heard.
My tears were not lost.
My sobs were instead,
the sound of prayers being answered.
I knew you were coming!
In the gentle breeze God whispered,
“It will happen one day
Just have faith,
Hold strong,
It’s true,
I will fill your heart with blessings,
And with all that is new”.
I don’t know if this is the right thing to do.
My ego says no.
My pride says no.
My gut says no.
But my soul says yes.
My soul tells me I need to.
Because my unforgiveness is causing me more damage than it is causing you. Because you are living your life, happy, healthy, loving, laughing, living….and I am not.
With every word I write about how much I loathe you, my life seems to get a little bit worse somehow.
Or I seem to hurt a little bit more.
I have to stop hating you.
You have caused me more grief and mental damage than anyone else in my life. I have to believe that you’re not evil enough to have done this to me intentionally. No one could be that low. But the fact still remains that I have severe body issues because of you. I have severe emotional issues and I’m angry. I’m angry for allowing you to affect me as much as I did. I’m angry at myself. Keep in mind, this opinion and these feelings are subjective, so although you may think you’re a saint, and that you did no such thing, MY FEELINGS prove otherwise.
But for once and for all, if I ever want a chance at truly helping myself and being happy, I need to let my anger towards you, and my genuine hate for you, go. I was asked recently why I stuck around in your life for so long, and this person wanted to know your redeeming or “good” qualities. And I will never deny that you do have good qualities. Great ones even. But we both know, and you have previously admitted, that those great qualities were not “wasted” on me. They were kept for people who you believed were worthy of them. I was not. I was worthy of the “half-assed”. Half assed friendship that never genuinely asked how I was doing, and never truly cared either; half-assed mock relationship that had you telling me you cared about me then jumping into bed with countless women, even just to prove a point because you were angry with me because I left you at the mall with your friend; half-assed caring where you told me to take a taxi to the hospital because you were out with your friends when I needed you.
All of it, half-assed.
I have to let it all go. The good and the bad.
I will never forget how I felt seeing your face in the crowd after my first half and how I couldn’t wait to just get to you. I’ll never forget the effort you put in to make birthday special that one year. I wish I had more examples of the good, I really do. Regardless, I need to forget it all. I have to let it go.
So, December (nf), I forgive you. I forgive you and now I will try my hardest to forget you. I forgive you even if you think I don’t have anything to forgive you for. Because people like you really don’t accept they do anything wrong. Especially to people who they don’t believe are worthy. You think hookers are worthy and strippers and people who treat you badly – they are worthy. But others who stand by your side and support and encourage you….those are the ones who deserve to be treated like garbage. Disposable and only good enough to be shat on, called whores, and have their dignity and morals questioned.
I forgive you. But mostly I forgive myself for continuing to come back time and time again. For not loving myself enough and not believing I’m worthy enough to karate chop you right in your throat and turn my back on you after the first time you disrespected me. No. I don’t want to see your stripper ex’s tits. And no, I don’t want you to fill my phone with photos of your 23 year old prostitute girlfriend, or photos of Alaska.
No. No. I don’t. But you still did.
I will love myself moving forward, and only think of you as a lesson of how never to allow someone to take advantage of me, my kindness, my soul and take me for granted.
Ever again.
You hold my childhood
and the innocence of my youth
You were the sweetness and purity
of everything that was dear to me
My memories
run rampant
and fill the pages of my mind,
and fill the pages of my mind,
and fill the pages….
of my mind
You smelled like home
I would know you blind,
that sweet lingering scent
of a past unkind
You are
tear stained ink
on my canvas of art
my picture worth a thousand words
You are
the seed you planted in my heart
You are
my sweet September
the crown of kings
my sweet September
You smelled like dreams
Lie to me;
Lie with me;
To lay with me;
Isn’t it easier to love in the darkness?
To be ourselves;
To unmask our sins and monsters;
To hide who we truly are between the shadows….and to lie to each other.
Lie to me;
Lie with me;
To lay with me;
Nothing looks the same in the light;
By candlelight,
don’t we all look like glorious lovers?
The dancing reflections of radiance,
softly caressing the perfect parts of us,
where we want others to look.
Body parts glistening,
looking like diamonds
in perfect shapes
and immaculate brilliance.
I love how she lies to you.
That has to be
one of the greatest justifications
and my vindication.
The truth shall set you free;
although in your case
you find the truth to be a lie
and maybe that is
exactly what you deserve
to lay still in your darkness,
and self-deceit.
Believing what you hear
and not what you see
with your own eyes
and feel to be true
in your own soul.
She is a woman of the night.
Darkness
inside and out.
Her counterfeit beauty comes alive
only between the shadows
of the truths she tells you.
After drowning for so long,
the feeling
of asphyxiation…
əsˌfiksēˈāSH(ə)n/
noun
the state or process of being deprived of oxygen, which can result in unconsciousness or death; suffocation.
She cut and run.
Reborn again.
Finally free of his selfishness,
self justified importance,
and narcissistic nature.
His removal from her life,
made her rediscover herself,
discover things around her,
realizing it was the end of the road
for him on her journey;
and the most beautiful beginning
of better things,
and most certainly better people to come.
And just like that,
she could breath again…
A heavy sigh of “Alhamdulilahhhhhh”.
Softly weeping;
Not from sadness,
but from ultimate relief.
Here’s to the morning
she woke up
and simply decided,
“No more”.
His mouth smelled like an ashtray that had been festering for months,
full of toxic nicotine and rot,
teeth unbrushed,
body unbathed,
thoughts impure.
His insides were dark and vile,
going out of his way
with his words
to inflict injurious pain.
He was pure poison,
full of venom and chaos.
So why did you linger around for so long?
Maybe I was bored with the monotony of my own existence…
And somehow addicted to his mayhem;
Comfortable with his insensitivity,
and clung on to his lack of class and empathy.
Maybe knowing how much he intrinsically hated me made it easier to loath the pieces of me that I did;
He gleefully offered me the justification I needed to be the bigger asshole to myself.
And because I didn’t love me enough to leave.
So which one of us was dirty?
*your name weighs heavy on my heart…I wonder if you know that I regret you*
In other words, I wish I could unfuck you.
And God said “Grow”,
as God says to it, “Be!”, and it is.
And she grew;
She grew beyond the dirt;
Broke through the ground that nurtured her;
The earth that provided warmth and love;
The earth that enveloped her;
She grew in His glory;
Blossomed in the freedom to be as He willed;
She drank;
She soaked in the rain which He poured down;
Bathed in His love of His creation;
Washed away sadness and sorrow.
She swayed;
She swayed whimsically,
From side to side;
Danced in the ambrosial breeze He provided;
She flourished;
She flourished in the midst of the storm and found peace in her creator.
And then she was picked;
She was picked from the earth that embraced her;
And she called out to Him,
“once a flower has been picked, it begins to die”.
And He gently whispered,
“you are the gift I have given them…for once a flower has been picked,
it does not die…
Your colours will provide beauty;
your fragrance will provide joy;
your shape will provide inspiration,
and your roots will provide a lesson”.
And she cried “I am a gift they do not want”;
And He whispered,
“do not fear their disregard for you;
Together we will write a beautiful story;
One that will live on eternally;
For after every hardship comes ease”.
i remember how you held me
your delicate touch
the softness of your skin
i remember your hands and chest
how I fit in the spot between your neck and chin
i remember the sound of your beating heart
the low drumming symphony
i remember all the things
that kept you from keeping me
and I am so grateful for the memories
UnapologeticallyShe 