Is it Love that you believe in? Or is it the passion of moments that you try to hold on to for a lifetime? You come home day after day, building a life with someone that takes you for granted. You hold on to the great times as if the relationship shouldn’t be full of them. We are taught that we should eat straps because in the beginning we were dining at the finest resturants. Relationship are hardwork they say….but it is personal. Passion should replace the word work. Arguments should create peace not distant memories of souls intertwined. Bitting our tongues isn’t Love, it’s a mouth full of blood, and it hurts. When we are ready to walk out the door, why is there another gear they can achieve? Shouldn’t that be the gear that’s consistently shown. Shouldn’t the exception be alone time to collect our thoughts? It is sad! Our reality is working through selfish choices because we Love someone. Shouldn’t Love be keeping your Love ones in mind before you make a choice? It’s heartbreaking! We see a happy couple and widsom is telling them, they will not be happy forever. Happy people are so naive, yet miserable one’s are insightful. Do you believe in Love? Love is, going through life honoring every commitment you made with your life. Love is, communicating every misguided thought to essure your relationship remains guided. Love is, navigating through life’s problems not creating problems, just to say you witnessed life. We need to learn what Love is because our belief in Love is starting to cross the thin line to hate….
Mute, my voice has been silenced because you refuse to have truth leave your lips. Everything that once gave me life, has killed our growth, planted by weeds. You broke my heart by forgetting to let me in on your secrets. You have destroyed my ego because I let you in on mine. I attached you to my dreams by making you the queens of my creativity. Now, the cameras have lose their focus and I am left being the editor of whether we were ever right. Love had blinded me from seeing, I can see. You made a fool of me and for that I am angry. But, I am upset with you for not Loving the foolish me, the me that wanted to be happy….
Our eyes, pacing back and forth, four pubils work as two in unison. I see you and you see me. Our lips aren’t moving, yet we are having words. I can smell the familiar scent of your skin. We are so intertwined that I can feel the joy in your smile. We have erased the background of our surrounds. We are we! Our margin are aligned, we are writing the story of us. I am responsible for those crow feet evading your eyes. You are the reason I have happy marks circling my mouth. Your ears remain open to my heart and my heart remains open to your ideas. We have touched one another within using our hands. My shoulders broaden in your presense, I am gifted with the strength to carry your weight. I am blind. I am blessed enough to have someone that can guide me. Doubt has no pulse, hope is breathing. You are forever, the measurement for happiness….
Go into the bathroom and wash the pain off your face, before it stains. We are connected so that you can find happiness not be a product of hurt. When you return, I want to start by giving you a hug, showing you that our heart are one. I want to sit and have an honest discussion about why those tears have invaded your eyes. They are blinding you of all the possible joy breathing can bring. You are no longer the person that stayed because you left. You aren’t all the negative remarks because you set a new mark. You have decided to raise your standards, and it will definitely create distance from those who have no standards at all. While you are still in the bathroom look in the mirror. Do you see the same scared person? Do you see the things your past has lied to you about? We are all insecure about one thing or another. But, what is going to separate us from others is we aren’t settling for those insecurities being our identity. We will look in the mirror, stare straight at those insecurities, and work toward being secure. Deep breath, deep breath! This is a passing moment from your past, lets start working toward your positive future. We are in this together….
Note to Self….
My tempture baking, hot enough to cook a whole meal. You walked out the door, while I was in mid sentence, and I was trying to voice my passion for you. Now that I think about it, I am hurt. But, anger is the way I was raised to express myself as a boy. So, I have to be man enough to say, “You broke my heart”. I am left to figure us out by myself. I wanted us to work together, yet you don’t care about my wants. Actually, that was the problem the whole relationship. Me caring about you, you caring about you, and no one caring about me. Sad! Sitting here reflecting, I am chasing a ghost. You left because you abused me. The pain in my heart is so intense, I couldn’t breath once the door shut. With air reaching my brain, clarity is present. I am better off without you. I locked the door behind you….
I washed my hand of the madness between us, but you followed me into the next room. I am suppose to hold my anger, yet I asked for space, and you keep coming closer. The baby is in the next room crying, the other children are so used to our dysfunction they continue to watch television. They are laughing in the background as your voice increases with rage because I refuse to respond. I want to keep my family whole. How is that possible when together we are so unhealthy? I talked to my family and friends, it is some normal in their lives they tell me to thug it out. Your in my ear and I am ready to boil. I reach for the door to leave. You grab my hand, yelling at the top of your lungs, “You can’t walk out on me, you ruined my body with these children”. I turn with the devil in my eyes, “get off me”. You just grab me with your other hand, saying “I am not scare of you”. Pushing my buttons, testing my resolve. I have never hit you before but I am close. Teeth are clitching, jaw is protruding, and the vein in my forehead is ready to explore. The moment continue to weaken me. You are shaking me, my hand is forming a fist, and arm is cocking back. One of the children come out. “Mommy, Daddy, I am hungry. God used my lil girl to remind me of the man I am. I walk into the kitchen and start making the children something to eat. Continuing to live this life, hiding behind staying for the children, not seeing that staying is hurting my children.