So Much More (Poem)

So Much More

Just when my faith was gone,
my hope had flown,
you came along.

You swept me off my feet,
gave me something new
in which to believe.

Is it fair to say
I lived one day
before you?
I don’t see
how it could be,
my love.
What is life
if you’ve nothing left
to live for?
You’ve made it so much more.

Just when my faith was gone,
my hope had died,
you came along.

You swept me off my feet,
gave me all your love
and sweet air to breathe.

Is it fair to say
I lived one day
before you?
I don’t see
how it could be,
my love.
What is life
without something
to live for?
You’ve made it so much more.
Gave me purpose, a need,
and a dream to believe.
You’ve made it so much more.

Through My Fingers (Poem)

Through My Fingers

I tried
to exist in the moment,
to live life like I owned it,
to love like no tomorrow.
I failed
to see the price that you paid,
the sacrifices that you made,
to recognize your sorrow.

It’s not that it meant so little to me.
I meant to make it up to you one day.
How could I know the day would never come,
that the future I promised would be taken away?

You can’t say I didn’t try,
but it all slipped through my fingers again.
I watched as time flew by.
It flowed like tiny grains of sand
through my fingers again.

I really thought I did my best by you,
that I gave you what you needed from me then.
Those precious moments lost, I promised would come due.
How could I know it would all come to an end?

You can’t say I didn’t try,
but it all slipped through my fingers again.
I was lost while time flew by.
It flowed like tiny grains of sand.
You can’t say I didn’t care,
but it all slipped through my fingers again.
While I was unaware,
time poured like the river of the damned
through my fingers again.

Beautiful Disaster

I'm not beautiful when I cry. My tears aren't achingly lovely. They're sticky and sloppy. My face gets swollen. In fact, I tend to look like I've went ten rounds with Tyson once I dry up.

It's simply not fair how some women can pull off a good cry and still look so lovely. I want to be able to cry pretty. I want those silent tear drops that roll gently down my cheeks. I want those soft, heart wrenching sobs that pull a strong man to his knees. My sobs sound more like a banshee trying to break loose. It's sad, really. And then I get those little hiccough type breaths, like I'm hyperventilating.

I guess it's a good thing that I don't have reason to practice too often. But lately, things have been complicated. I'm a constant victim of Murphy's Law, destined to get caught in the currents of chaos. It's been worse the past couple of weeks. It's not an emotional roller coaster I'm riding. It's more like a plane crash.

Speaking of crashes, I wrecked Handsome's truck a couple of days ago. A retaining wall attacked it while I was just sitting there, minding my own business. It wasn't serious. That is to say, I wasn't injured or anything. Just a major scratch down the side. Handsome went postal though. I really thought that this would be the end of us.

It's too complicated to explain without sounding stupid by defending him or sounding like I'm bashing him. He overreacted. I overreacted. His truck got hurt. My feelings got hurt. He cooled down. But now, I can't seem to warm up completely. I'm getting that feeling of one foot out the door again. I hate that feeling when you're waiting for the other shoe to drop and you can't stop being on guard. But, I can't just leave. There's too much at stake.

I know I'm not perfect. I know that Handsome is a good man. We're both under a lot of stress because of this remodeling project we have going. All the work we got finished has gone to Hell in a hand basket and the work we need done isn't getting done for reasons beyond our control. It's.....complicated.

Then, there's the fact that I just got to meet his family and I adore them. They made me feel so welcome and so accepted. And now, Handsome is talking the "M" word again and I know it's because he really wants to try forever with me. And here I am, baulking at it all. I'm so confused. I'm spinning like a top, trying to find something solid to hold on to, but every time I reach out, I only find more chaos.

So, what is the answer? Am I just making excuses, or are they valid reasons for having my back up and my eyes open? Am I being jaded, or wise? Have I finally turned into the thing I most dreaded becoming, a woman so scorned that I miss all the joys that comes with all this pain? Because I dimly recall there being a balance to it all.

Perhaps, in time, I'll get my answers. But for now, the bed beckons me. I know that tomorrow, I will have forgotten my questions. I'll be thick in the chaos again. Life stops for no one, so you either live it or watch it pass you by. But, maybe, I will get a chance to stop and rest for a moment. Maybe the top will lay to rest for a brief moment in time before someone sets it to spinning again. It's not too much to ask, is it?

Home

I dusted off my keyboard today. My need to write beckoned me like an old lover. Once, I thrived in the arms of my lover. It was a place I found myself. Now, the tap of the keys is awkward, almost alien.

I know that with each touch of the keys, I will become more familiar with that lover again. Old feelings and new will wash over me. Life will unfold and eventually, it will feel like coming home again.

Coming home. I've been acquainted with that feeling a lot lately. Only, it feels so different every time I do. I visited my folks this last weekend. Coming home to them means feeling warm and welcome, free to relax and enjoy myself. They push and they prod. They love and tend to me. They give of themselves and ask if I need more.

I visited my best friend too. Coming home to her means no judgement. I tell her everything, even the things I have trouble telling myself. She will never be ashamed of me. She will lend an ear, an arm, a shoulder whenever I ask it. She knows without doubt that she has the same of me.

I visited the ghost that haunts my past as well. Oh, Lord! I don't know how to explain this one. Comfort and turmoil, longing and fulfillment. Time does not heal all wounds, only changes the nature of the pain. I am not me when I'm with him. I am not me without him. I can't move forward and I can't go back. I told myself I was there to burn bridges, but the truth of it is, bridge or no bridge, I will find my way back to him again and again.

After the weekend was done, I came home to Handsome. I was so hopeful, so devastated. I want things to work between us, and I don't. This past year with him has been so strange. He is my friend and my confidant, but there's something missing and I can't quite place my finger on it. I know it has nothing to do with my past. The past has no place in the future other than as a lesson to live by. No, it's more complicated than that. There's this space between us that can't be breached, not by word or deed. And I'm so lost right now.

Truth be told, if I could figure out what was wrong with us, I wouldn't look back at the past with such longing. But the space is there and growing wider each day. We don't touch any more. We don't connect on that primitive level. I know that he tries so hard to. I want to. I try. But I feel so disconnected from him. He feels it too. It's the elephant in the room that we'll never discuss.

I look at my screen now, at that damn blinking cursor, and I look around the place I now call home. They both still feel the same to me, familiar and awkward all at the same time. And I wonder, will I ever feel whole again?