Original man

Everytime we are together
He amazes me a little more
The simple things we talk about
aren't so simple to everyone else
But to us, they come naturally
I can feel his aura, his passion, his ambition
It rubs off on me and makes me a better person
The way we relate to each other
or know what each other's thinking during uncomfortable silences
How the time we spend together goes so fast
but doesn't seem like it
How he treats me like a princess, holds open doors, and is the perfect gentleman
He illuminates a room with his ego
Not too big, not too small
People take notice
and notice I'm with him
I like that.
He likes my smile
I like his soul
He appreciates the little things
I appreciate everything
and thank God to have finally met
an original man.

Bags and Burdens

She carries her bags and her burdens on her shoulders
They are heavy and weigh her down
The handles stretch with the weight of it
Almost to the point of breaking.
She wipes the sweat from her brow
and drudges forward
blood
sweat
tears
no one notices.
She dreams of being nonexistent,
of hiding in a dark corner of an empty house
of reading books and writing poems
ignoring the outside world that rejects her.
She dreams of Plath-like peace
in a world of chaotic melancholy.
Instead she fumbles with keys at the door
drops the bags to the floor
and collapses in a chair.
She made it.
No where in particular but she made it.
At least for today
But should she not make it tomorrow
she doubts anyone would notice
does anyone even listen?
Listen?
Listen?
Writhing in agony late at night in front of
what seems like a fluorescent screen
Tears rolling down her face as she writes
To no one
for nothing
but for her own eyes.
Will she make it tomorrow?

Antisocial

I admit it, I'm avoidant, antisocial, agoraphobic. I am irritated and annoyed by people. Not necessarily people in general, just fake, shiny, happy people who act like life is great. Maybe it is great for them, who knows. If I had no kids, I'd live my life as a hermit, a recluse, like Sylvia Plath, Anne Sexton, Greta Garbo. Women who humanity didn't appreciate until their demise. I'd live in solitude and write and read. Hell, if I was Catholic, I'd become a nun. I feel like people expect too much from me when I already expect an enormous amount from myself.

If it were up to me, I'd never go out and live my life completely at home. Going out means dressing up, being uncomfortable, putting on a fake smile, and pretending I'm normal and pretending I understand where other people are coming from and them pretending to understand where I'm coming from. It's a recipe for disaster.

When all is said and done, at least I can say that the only thing that makes me feel human are the hugs my children give me.

Loneliness

They say that everyone in the world is meant for someone. That someone out there is your match, your soulmate, your other half. I think I am the first exception to that rule. When I look internally and I analyze myself, I don't see anyone in the world that I think would want to be with me or would feel complete by having me in their lives and vice versa. I feel like I was one of those people who was just meant to be all alone forever. To grow old alone, end up in a nursing home, and be buried near my children one day. Don't get me wrong, I live and breathe for my children. I think I was meant to be a mother, to raise daughters, two, exactly. But to have a partner to help me just wasn't in God's plan. I was meant to struggle, go through strife, and do it all alone as I have been. For some reason, whether it was a past life, or whatever, I was meant to suffer in this life, and I truly have. Losing everyone close to me that I loved in such a painful way, having no close family to rely on, financially struggling from check to check to feed my kids. Whatever I did, God, in my past life, I am truly sorry and have learned my lesson. Some people are meant to be happy, have fulfilling careers and lives, happy children, true love, beautiful homes, comfortable cars. I am not one of them. I used to think suffering built character. Now I feel like that's bullshit. Somewhere along this road of life I have lost my faith. People ask me why I don't go to church....don't I believe in God? Would you? I've been depressed since I was 17 years old and I read an article once that said, 'most people who are depressed, are depressed for a reason,' so before you tell me to perk up, think about that.

I've officially lost my faith and do not know where to go. If God does exist and has some divine plan for me, so far his plan officially blows. I'm lost. Imagine the most lonely you could feel in the entire world...... now imagine living like that day in and day out for your entire life. Imagine feeling like no one understands you or like you are in a foreign country and no one speaks English around you. That's how I feel. No one will ever "get" me. No one will ever understand me. I'm trapped in this life of complexity and have no escape except death and I can't even escape it that way because I have kids to raise.

Will this pain ever stop?

Writing hurts

Writing hurts.
It's the only thing between me and my emotions.
How I really feel
cooped up inside my caged heart
knocking to get out
and I can keep it wrapped up deep inside
no one has to know
no one does know
until that writer in me
she aches to start again
she mindlessly puts her soul out for everyone to see
she picks up the pen
click clacks at the keyboard
and it all falls out
the black tarred heart that died long ago
the soul that has been scarred and bruised
the ego that doesn't exist
the faint scent of hope that she keeps in her heart
well, that lingers for her kids sake
and everything else is necrotic
dead
dying, if not yet.
and this disgusting task of writing
that makes it all come out
is one of the few things that keeps breathing
so that even when I don't
it will still exist.

Patience

Looking up at the Niagara Falls as they float in the sky
Feeling his eyes on me through the corner of my eye--
I sigh.
I can feel the aura, the energy, the vibe
The warmth I've searched for my whole life
is finally in my presence.
I stare stoically ahead in an effort not to fuck this up
as I most typically do,
So I nod and smile at questions
I fiddle with the car stereo
I smirk as he bobs his head to hip hop
I push down the feeling so deep--
the feeling telling me to reach out and grab him,
reach out and touch him,
reach out and hold him and tell him what he means to me.
I push it down.
until I can't take it any longer
and I scratch his back with my fingertips.
He smiles and leans over, running his long warm fingers down my thigh
I quiver as I try in vain to focus on the drive
because if I can't get this man home alive
well, that could be an issue.
So I refocus my efforts and pull up to his flat
Our lips meet one last time for the night.
Please don't get out of the car.
Please don't get out of the car.
Please don't get out of the car.
He gets out of the car.
Until we meet again.

A Real Man

He stands tall at almost 6 feet
But his height isn't what is intimidating
He wears white tees and big jeans
His shoes are clean but he's not obsessive
He smokes squares as he reads The Art of War
He sits in the back as I read my poetry at the open mic
he lays awake at night, staring at me sleep
Smirking as I drool
He chases my kids around with water guns
Reads them Dr. Seuss
And plays mediator when our kids meet
He brings home a paycheck
and even though it's small
I'm proud of his effort and respect his grind
He's everything a man should be
He never takes a dime from me
Refuses to swallow his pride
or come off as a lame
He defends me to his friends and family
Because he knows I always have his back
and that blood is not always thicker than water
He drives my car gently and always puts gas in it
He surprises me with sneakers, DVDs, handbags, and paid bills
He devours my grandma's home cookin
I run his bath water and give him a manicure
Just for holdin down home
He lets me go out with the ladies
while he plays PS2 with the kids at home
He thinks my writing is brilliant and encourages me to do my best
He self-educates and isn't afraid to go in a bookstore
He prays with me in silent behind closed doors
cuz he's no hypocrite like that
Too bad I haven't met him yet.

untitled

My soul has been awakened
Set aflame by the impossible
Kept burning by the undeniable
But make no mistake about it, it is awake.
It took nothing more than the name of a movie
a perfectly timed laugh
or maybe it was the warmth of the rum
but whatever it was, it worked.
I was guided down a path by a force I've never felt
Something telling me I couldn't reject this feeling
I'd regret it. For sure, I'd regret it.
No regrets.
I've had enough of those. So I decided to plow through.
Discovery is scary but beautiful.
Having faith when you know something is right and taking the leap
means the difference between having something and not
and when you've had a whole lot of nothing
you learn to take the leap of faith.
I'm glad I did.
Being wrapped in strong arms and feeling drops of sweat
drip in places on my body that he's never seen
solidified the place of this man in my existence.
Feeling his lips pressed against mine and the way we knew,
just knew,
it felt right.
The way he snuggled me closer when he really wanted to get up.
The way he asked if we could lay there 'just a little longer.'
The way he made sure I got home safe and requested to see me again soon.
All solidified his place.
I know where he stands. Now it's up to him to decide which way he wants to lean.