blood ties remade...

louder
lips speak louder.

she tells me she went there to bring me home.

i was capsized by the very small place in the world that i felt i occupied.
death
and truth
all held a strong precedent to the forgiveness that came before.

i tell her now
sitting in the comfort of our home
that i never thought i could provide for her
or myself-
i tell her
that my life has been first and foremost a lesson in forgiveness.

simply put.

i would be an orphan yet again if i was stunned by the inflexibility of forgineness.

but then again, wouldn't we all.

so here we are, walking wounded in the world believing that we are martyrs for learning to forgive the biggest and baddest trespasses against us
regardless of religion inside.

never a victim
but merely in the places that didn't have our best interests in mind,
we walked into a moment that was unforgiving and weak with someone who was even weaker and forgive less.

no sense to walk out of what we walked in to
we witnessed
and recognized,
even if years or decades later,
that something,
some body was not where it was meant to be.

nevertheless
we moved through that moment
and into and onto another.

our scar tissue thicker and stronger the more wounded we became
the more resilient we were.

i have never wanted it to have been any different, really.
i have merely said,
shit happens,
and it breaks you
or it doesn't.

i have chosen to live by the later
and i am fine.

so, back to her strong sense of non forgiving
she is a self appointed reckoner of misdeeds in my life
she holds those memories and she holds the list of mis doings against me.

i tell her to breathe into the space between me and those past moments
to fill up the space the same ways i have

but she stands guard differently than the others
she is more awake.

i now know why that is.

she is my keeper
and to ask any different of her
would be asking her not to be her.

for her solidarity to me
i feel safe
i feel strong

and i feel more room to forgive..

under your breath..

seriously i'd give anything for her to give me a minute in her mind.
so much time in this life of mine showcasing,
reminiscing,
replaying,
remembering words she said and then the words she never said thereafter.

i have loved this girl/woman since i was 13. i mean seriously been in LOVE with his woman/girl since i was young. i have tried to make myself important to her but in reality i am nothing but aluminum cans in a bag to her. i am unable to move forward from her despite how far ahead i push.

first love is never ending the same way yelling 'falling timber' never loses it's meaning.

i don't know how to stop it,
how to digress,
or forget her.
she denies me and the memory of what she taught me. married with 2 kids she is hardly the lesbian vixen she was in 10th grade.
hell, none of us are.
but still i crave, and i want some recognition in her, something to admit that she remembers those adolescent moments where she moved me from girl to young woman.

same but not the same with those boys with their endless needs. i don't feel the need to reconnect there. i may have loved those boys and men but with tracy there is no comparing.
with her i want to go learn my lesson in love again and again despite the ceaseless heartache that would endure.

i am still manifesting her to me in some way. i don't want some drawn out love affair some 23 yrs later
i just want some recognition.

tell me, there's nothing wrong in that. i just want to end the back room yearning so i can bury the memory.

parsons bed...

it takes a while to shake this shit loose in me

it takes a while for me to step into the moments where i can make sense between the heart and mind.

in my ears i hear a profound rhythm and despite not having made one of my own in quite some time- i appreciate the movement and precision entering me.

i am ready to strip down
i ready to remove the city on my skin
and let the road take me away

it's been long enough that i know i don't belong
and i know i need to get back to something simpler.

it's sickening to never be reminded, in a world fabricated,
that we are merely moving in empty cycles that don't resemble and often overwrite our true intentions.

i am a perfect poster child for consumption. i want and i want.
i told her of how i wanted another in the beginning, someone who i thought beautiful and broken who was not even close to being fixed the way we endlessly work to be fixed. i asked her who she would want if she could have that moment of abandon and of course she mentions some top tier, totally together woman who no one could ever hope to evolve to, successfully.

i sat in admittance of failure in my lustful wish of make out dreams and i sat straight up and said- i recognize and am drawn to the unfinished soul merely because it's a comforting reminder that we all have work to do. why would i lust for the "perfect" being, unless i was convinced i was settling for failure?

needless to say i love my choice despite how faulty and human she is. it only made me love my ellen more, because i recognize how close to fine she is, which is so unlike me.

and i like that.

dizzy, loud and free...

time..
as i follow through the awkward movements of moving forward
i am suddenly summoned back
to the time when things were intact-
a little-
or perhaps more than they were thereafter.

i am reckoned by the mail i received
and the message shortly beforehand
and then again by the introductions that came many years and lifetimes after.

loudly they call my name which i recognize in the formalized spelling and swift emails.
i miss you all i think to myself
and then again i don't.
the faces and places that we shared remind me that life has moved forward
that life has carried on with and without the ones i have loved.

i am contemplating returning.
to those very places that wounded me.

words said by a big brother
darkness and ill intent all live in those places
in that state
that i was resigned to grow up in.

in one way or another
i want to return,
says the woman i am now.
i never want to return,
says the memories of the child that still resides in my bones, done growing and getting older.

i have memories

and some are not pretty.
some moved me up in the experiences i shared,
the loves i found,
and the stones i turned without direction.

in those places i have friends
some who never knew
some who had their own stories
i never asked to know.

still, we ask and we crave to see those faces that knew us when we were young
and presumably innocent.

i crave those faces
for reasons that have nothing to do with my place and my knowing in the world,
pushed further along in the worldly experience than i had a right to know back then.

i crave those faces because they set me up to return to a place where love lived.

and that is enough to release the unreconciled child in me.