The Rain

Rain pouring down and as my tears tried not to pour out last night.  IT doesn’t change anything between us.  It doesn’t matter what you tell me anymore.  You will never act on me and I could wait an entire lifetime for you, because I just believe that much.  And you’d just stand back; puzzled, wondering how much will she take.  

Do you judge me for believing in a love you don’t feel?  I judge me sometimes. Why? Because I know better than to believe in something I have never felt.  Something that I feel now, but completely isolated and alone.  You abandoned me, you left US just as a me.  

What do I do with this textured heart now? I’m lost without knowing its ok to love you, not even expecting you to love me back.  I don’t think you ever will and if your mangled heart loves again I’ll still be happy for you.  But for now I’ll match the rain tear for tear.  I can never say it enough.  Reciprocity is so incredibly underrated.  

Pas de Deux

Light love, easy love. It starts simple, slow.

Building up to the unknown, no black clouds reign here, rain here.

 It should be this easy. 

If only 54 seconds could repeat itself forever.  And it does, for a few minutes, a few verses.  And it becomes steady, almost constant.  Ever so suddenly it builds, and you can feel it in your chest. 

And just as you’re used to it there’s a change.  Change.

  A hop.   And you know something is moving, something is changing.  Something you are curious by, more to know, nothing too dark yet.

 And as you start to circle you realize there is a mist all around you and you are spinning so fast.  And it’s so loud that you don’t think you could stop or land.  Darkness has surrounded you, and it’s agile.  And just as before you can’t stop it.  You can’t control it. 

It will spin you, and you will land where it wants you to land.  Even if you pause it, it comes back louder and darker than ever.  And suddenly you realize you are completely alone and dizzy in the mist.  Without two. 

There’s a sense of remembrance or a dream, or so you think.  And then you realize it’s a haze, a memory haze. 

You long for it keep running after it.  But you can’t escape the mist, you won’t this time. 

Searching and cherishing. 

This is the last of it, this pain.  After this you won’t remember anything at all.  The good or the bad.  And that, that is Pas de Deux.

Listen:

http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=V4OGNqjA4Xw

whimsically not there.

Letting go, dreaming slow.  My muse used to bring me words, now I can’t face this empty screen.  We can write when we’re happy, but no one really wants literature that doesn’t bleed.  Isn’t that the truth?

I’m trying to document this pain so that later I’m not fooled by my own faux feelings.  I’m looking for my reflection in him and it will never be.  Don’t we al deserve a reflection of our own heart? I know I’ve been dying for it.  How many years have I been dating? I’m letting go because I have to, and I’ve never had to before.  It was always whimsically there if I REALLY wanted it.  It could have been salvaged, fought for.  But no, not this time.  There is no changing minds, hearts rather.  I can’t keep shaking him and asking why why why? 

Have I not learned anything from religion in all these years?  I’m as tragic at love as I was at religion.  Failing to understand, refusing to let go.  And I’ll probably change my mind at least a few more times.  How does a writer ever let go?  There’s that constant belief that the world you’re looking for is within reach.  I write only what I know, not fantasy.  So why is the fantasy all in my head? Too scared to see it in print because I know it can’t and won’t ever be.  

The winner takes it all.

And so the games continue… with my heart as the ping-pong ball.  How can someone expect so much more than they’re willing to give?  But I play along, knowing that I finally feel like I have a bit of the upper hand.  This is always momentary.  Just like a gamble, you can be on top for a moment and fall on your face the next.

I don’t want to play.

I want it to be real.  I thought we were past this.  Why does he feel the need to carry on trite conversation with me? It’s a waste of my time.  Maybe I sound harsh but what’s the point of all this?  At the end of the day he’s still the power player no matter how many rounds I may have won.  I’m being strung along just enough.  He has to know this part of the game.

In the end, he takes it all because I spend my evenings waiting on him, pouring my heart into yet another project for him.  Just another way for me to win his devotions.  Yes I did admit to still playing…  I even dance around the idea of a note.  He doesn’t deserve me.  I don’t think he ever will, but as long as I'm a willing participant in this pursuit I’m just as bad as the player, the dealer, and succinctly, the winner.

The first song I've ever written.

Soaked up in you

 How long do you think this moment will last?

Slipping away from me

 I can’t even enjoy my joy. 

I know it will be gone and all I’ll have left is the sting of this memory. 

Will I even want to remember it? 

Is this what I’ve been waiting for?

This moment. 

How can I grab onto something fighting me every second of the way?

Every second of the day? 

I can’t, so please grab onto me, 

before you slip too far away.

Everything deserved is in front of you,

you don’t need the abuse you give. 

So take the good,

take the light,

and stop this internal fight.

How can I grab onto something fighting me every second of the way?

Every second of the day? 

I can’t, so please grab onto me, 

before you slip too far away.

Waiting for your realization could be too long and too wet.

I’m supposed to dry up and I can’t. 

All I do is imagine that there will be a million other moments just like this,

but I know youre slipping away. 

Do you call it slipping when you’re really just backing away?

How can I grab onto something fighting me every second of the way?

Every second of the day? 

I can’t, so please grab onto me, 

before you slip too far away.

So damaged and so textured. 

Do we always draw near to our biggest fears?

Am I facing my fear….in you?

Love that’s bending me beyond return. 

Disconfigured, I’ll be, trash to the rest. 

Is that what you want?

Someone wrapped perfectly around you, yet so easily removable?

How can I grab onto something fighting me every second of the way?

Every second of the day? 

I can’t, so please grab onto me, 

before you slip too far away.

Grab on to me, because my vines will break. 

Not out of chioice.

The vultures are back to take what’s left. 

Picking away. 

Don’t come back here, I cant take it.

The darkness pulls you in

Draws you in

Like a phantom

Like a ghost

Pure intrigue will take over from here

Is that what it was all along?

Sometimes love and lusts are obsolete

Day One

As i sit here shaking.  I know i've been here before and i know i keep jumping back into it like a full on addiction.  I have to ask myself what the fascination is?   I wish i knew all of the answers that i feel would have me running in the other direction.  Sadly, there are things in life we may never understand. There are some souls we just can't save.  Why did i think i could save him? Why did i even want to?   I wish i could save him from himself and i wish he could save me from himself too.  

I know now i am the only one that can save myself from him.  Before it was a fleeting thought, now i lie awake at night wondering how the fuck i'm going to do this.  We all think we've been through our big heartbreak before, and  i can say I'm taken back by the strength of my own feelings.  Even the strength of myself.  Pealing myself off of these tear stained sheets every morning and going on to pretend i am better than ok.  I am strong.  And i will be stronger for surviving a love that rejected mine.  

There is no heartbreak that has ever felt this way, and i know, absolutely and indefinitely, nothing like this can ever get me this close again.  I wish i had saved all of this for someone that could accept it, and more importantly wanted to accept it.  I'll never ignore red flags again.  It hurts to even say again, because i still have no idea how i'm going to get out of this.  Day one is everyday.  So tomorrow, again, i'll begin with day 1.  And force myself to gamble my heart within my means.  

 I hope, in the future, there is something real waiting for me.  I believe it less and less everyday.  I'm scared to walk away from something so riveting, and so powerful.  But with it's power i become powerless.  

Shotgun Love.

Stuck between him, and us; and them; and the we’s; and we’ll never be’s.

I feel tangled, twisted, mangled, misted.

I view love as an unplanned pregnancy and when it hits me i'll just suddenly get my shit together.  And  i'll make myself ready and be the mother of something i've never known. 
Shotgun wedding love.


It could work right? YES..it could.  But i think the growing pains kill the luster.


I think the greater lovers are probably the ones that have planned for it and are ready for it in every way. 


I DIDN'T plan this.  And planning the most unexplainable thing in the world doesn't sound at all appealing to me.


#hereigoagain

Poetry is for pussies.

Love is a dream that we forget once we’re awake.

Lust is the longing for a physical ache.

Dreaming is my mind telling me what I should feel

Longing is just enough bitter to make us heal

I dream, I love, I lust, I take

I feel, I forget, I heal, I wake.

To have the love unreturned is the hardest part

To start anew with only one foot forward is a pretty rough start

It's not the airbag, it's me.

Airbag Dating.

Carrie: You’re going as my airbag in case there’s an impact.  And Steve’s going as Aidan’s airbag.

Is there a simple definition to lifesaver dating?   I don’t think it should be called lifesaver dating it should be called airbag dating.  You must be kind of skeptical of the date if you go this route; or you really wouldn’t need the airbag. 

The suffocating airbag….aKa

This would be my first, and thankfully last situation, airbagging.  I think I learned after this situation, if you’re too scared to date the guy, DON’T DATE THE GUY.   I can’t blame my little suffocater, it’s my own fear that led me down this path….

Let’s call him Tad.  In fact, lets always call every guy I’m ever talking about Tad.    I met Tad at a very typical over-priced; over-hyped Hollywood bar.  You never meet the good ones here.  This is where you meet the ones you make-out with in the bathroom  (yes this HAS happened), or the ones that are looking for something TONIGHT.  This isn’t where you meet a guy you can date, not that any bar is really a good spot for this.  I met Tad here, and I was probably too busy looking over his shoulder at someone else, but he was just too nice and too sweet.  I gave him my number; more out of obligation for the amount of drinks he bought me, or just to throw him a bone.  No real intention of meeting up with him.  He started texting me right away (no game).  And usually the more you talk to a guy the more you decide how you feel about him.  Not this one, he would ask me questions and I would tell him about myself, and man, this guy was good on paper.  Especially, good on paper for me.  He wanted to meet up, he had a somewhat exciting life, so I thought I’d give it a half ass attempt.  Isn’t that what airbagging is?  Maybe I should scratch the name of airbag dating to half ass dating J

I took aKa with me, I didn’t want to meet up with this guy alone for a variety of reasons.  This is one of the only guys I have ever met up with from a bar, by the way. We met up somewhere so insignificant that I can’t remember now.  Guys truly fail to impress these days.  But then he took us somewhere great,  he took us to his place of business.  I am trying to be as absolutely vague as possible because, somehow, even though this night was truly an epic fail we ended up friends on Facebook.  The kind you never talk to or even like their status, but fail to delete.  

aKa was questioning this guy from moment one.  Complaining about where he took us, telling him to not touch me etc.  I love her, she has every right to tell every guy to back off, and for me, it was hilarious because she’s a part of me and I understand.  But, does the guy we just blindsided with a three-way date see this?  No I wouldn’t think so.  So for many obvious reasons, this date failed.  And not only did it fail, it was cut short.  This guy couldn’t handle my airbag so much that he actually got out of the car at a random stop light in Hollywood, no joke.  aKa and I looked at each other and laughed hysterically, and we still do to this day.  Maybe he’s the one that got away, the one that was good on paper, the one that could have been good in many other ways, but I never gave him the chance tat all of those things.  Airbag dating can backfire people.  Take note when the guy ditches your date at a stoplight…

Airbagging, t-bagging, douchbagging…..all the girly stuff.  Other baggeries to follow…

sextified.

Texting, sexting, skype sex, cyber sex…whatever happened to good old bathroom sex or car sex?  Sexting, seriously people?  Doesn’t your hand get tired from the delay?  We’re going to be a bunch of fucked up old people with carpal tunnel.  Fucked up dirty old people that is, but at least we’ll know we got our kicks, sorry our e-kicks.  ;)