i did not think, even now, in my happiness, that you could hurt me like this.
i had thought i was drifting away, from the anger, from the pain, from the betrayal, and from those lies.

those lies. those lies. those lies.

but when you know me so well, you know at which points i break.
and when you said, so clearly, you simply just didn’t like me

i fell back and again, you left me floored. gutted. spilled.
and even though i didn’t think i had any tears left for you,
i cried, and i cried. and i cried.

you’re good you said, but your personality…
and i am shaken, because it was that very self
that once loved you so well, that loved you so deep

it is the very self you hate now
who i have come to love, to accept.
i have found confidence, assurance,
myself, i cherish.

it is the same me you wrote to say you were afraid to lose from your life entirely.
but i suppose that too was a lie. it would have to be.
if your intention was to hurt so completely, you succeed.

even now, i think about spring fires on mountain tops
and where once there was magic and warmth
here on out, those memories burn.
and you with it.

she was birth of age
the screams of her life led
and lost in the screams of others

she arrived, fists shaking
to the rhythm of the walls
and the sway of the ground

blood spilling, flesh splitting
in the pain of life
and the terror of death

born into rubble
breathing in dust
her first home,
her final resting place.

i think about it
a lot.

about why one needs it. where does one go to find it? what of when it cannot be found?

i look around. i keep an open heart. and eye. and mind.
all i feel is calm. and the promise of something.

something wonderful.

i think then, about happiness. about how it has often inhibited me from writing. from how there are less words that way. wouldn’t you know, all the crap writing as of late–it stems from such a good place.

such a good, good, good, place.

and in this i am conflicted by a trade: words for happiness.
it doesn’t quite seem fair.

maybe it’s time (high high time) i introduce discipline.
can one make the time? is it attainable? where does one go for writing prompts?

where does one find inspiration.

i’ve been prioritizing things differently recently. i’m not as drawn to commitment, obligations, responsibilities. which isn’t to say i’ve thrown caution and adulthood to the wind, i’m just focusing on some other matters which i’ve summed into three categories:  health, happiness, and healing.

by this, a lot of it is mental health. for the last year, i’ve been seeing a therapist. and i am so fortunate to have found a therapist who is terrific. being a willing member of this process has been filled with wonders and discoveries. learning about myself has been difficult but (as cliche as this sounds) it’s rewarding. i have benefited from this, i hope i’ve become a better person, i hope others can be better because of me. and all of this is possible if i’m healthy, mentally.

i’m also happy to be healthy physically! through some unknown magical mystery, i’ve recently lost weight. (a person theorized maybe it was emotional baggage i’ve shed, i could agree.)but for whatever reason i also want to eat better. i just want vegetables and fruit and fresh yum things. i treat myself to what’s good, to what’s nourishing, what is fulfilling.

i feel healthy and fit, i feel up for things. i look better and i’m feeling pretty sexy. i’m out and about exploring. i’m reading. my mind feels warmed up and energetic. and all of this leads to…

seems silly, so entitled, so selfish. to pursue my own happiness. but it’s harder than i thought. to give into myself so much. to ask myself what it is i want. and then to ask for that. to make it happen. to move toward my desires.

a lot of this is moving toward good things. surrounding myself with good people. finding myself in good company. trying new things. having experiences a plenty. a day gone without learning anything is a day wasted. these are the things that make me happy.

i allow myself a lazy day. i allow myself book, coffee, dessert. i allow myself all these pleasures big and small. it is good to feel so happy. to feel like i can smile through anything, even the hurtful bits which persist. maybe when i’m happy, it moves to others too. i’d like to think i’m responsible for a few smiles out there, a few laughs, a few good memories.

while allowing myself health and happiness, what i’m doing is allowing myself an incredible healing. although always ever aware of scars and sores, there were many things i wasn’t addressing. this past year has been one of so many confrontations. a majority of them with myself. it has been painful. and it has been enlightening. to allow myself to move away from things that cause me pain. discomfort. insecurities. to know i don’t need to accept certain things. i am worthy of better. much better. i am deserving.

it is healing to allow myself a confidence that borders on vanity. to laugh as much as i want, as loud as i want. laughter is the best thing. when do you ever feel better than when you’re laughing, and laughing, and laughing? it’s a high that warms everything. that leads to balance and calm.

and so, i am finding the road to a slow recovery.
maybe. maybe.

sweat seeps into sheets
and the taste of salt on skin is body sweet
i wake up to soft knowing smiles
and mild morning kisses
lips and finger tips aroused
to echos of indulgences

as hours follow separation
a scent lingers in hair, sheets, skin
and with each little waft
i breath a little longer
i fall a little deeper

but it’s not love/loving/love making i’m craving
it’s not a relationship i’m seeking
it’s this:
somehow, in the madness,
i have found a place for both
happiness and contentment.

it’s healing.
it’s him. it’s you.
it’s this.this.

“tell me,” she said, “do you know what this is?” taking off a cap and tilting the contact lens case there appeared to be little but contact solution. maybe water.

“pain” she said. pain.

she continued talking picking up vials and odd containers. shapes and sizes all. colors too.

“this pain, a very specific one. it’s the pain of the most sever migraine. a terrible thing to do to someone. yes, yes, we could inflict physical pain-a broken bone, a nasty gnash — i have those tears too. but this, this, there is no suffering worse than one that takes away your mind. is this what you’re looking for?”

it wasn’t.

“no, that’s not the pain you’re after today? what you’re looking for is something along the lines of the heart. i have something more spectacular for that, if i think i know why you’re here” she said. pausing to turn around for something on a kitchen shelf, she then continued,”i gift you with the knowledge of–witch tears.”

“what does it take to make a witch cry?”

“now darling,” she cooed as if she had the world to console, “let the world have some of it’s mysteries.”

“what does it cost?”

“not much, a shred of your humanity. but people lose their humanity over the smallest things these days. at least your’s would have some cause, some reason. don’t you want to know what it can do?”

she settled onto a table cluttered with knick-knacks from an antique shop. “these tears,”the aged voice continued, “cannot take away your pain, but they will be endured in equal by whoever it was that inflicted such suffering on you.”

it was tempting. to have him feel it all. the blows of disbelief. the stab of lies. the burn of deception. the hurt the hurt the hurt. witch tears. it would be fitting. he’d see the humor.

“i understand why it appeals to you,” she began while one fist unfurled to reveal a small dropper. “it would be, in every sense of the word, just. an eye for an eye.”

he did deserve it. for being callous. for being selfish. for being unkind. for taking advantage of it all. it would be fair. it would indeed be just.

then while repeating the motion with her left wrist, the wrinkles of palm unfolded to show a small emerald pill, “but maybe for you, i have an alternative.”

“what’s this?”

“this? this.” she spoke like a lullaby, “this is something almost forgotten. this is something so rare these days. this is something incredibly powerful.”

“too rare to afford?”

“no, no, for this the barter is that you change too. it’s a process  you see, you consume it–it will alter you. and it will transform him. he will be given something beyond pain, he will be enlightened. he will see the errors of his ways. the mistakes he continues to make. he will learn the treasure of loving you. the gift of you. but only if you want it. if you allow it.”

“will it hurt?”

“all processes require some pain. there is always that additional cost. but he will feel it too. it will be a different pain.”

“he will change for certain?”

“for a time definitely. whether he will stay that way for always, it isn’t up to you. but you, you will be changed by it. it is the best healing i can give you. so tell me, what do you choose to inflict.”

looking at the right, “vengeance.” then to the left, “or forgiveness?”




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