The Water in the Mud Helps you Swim

The curtain dropped,

The illusion stopped,

And you were just you again:

No special bond, no secret understanding,

You’re just arrogant and calculated.

You made me believe you were the only way I could ever be worth something.

Or I believed that, and you happily accepted it.

All it was, where all is nothing,

Was Special bondage that would keep me understanding

That you were mine to love in secret,

That I’m built of different stuff,

Stuff built to take endless heartbreaks till the bondages of your life,

Released you,

and you could be with me,

No more secrets, no more tough love.

I believed your suffering of a trapped life, deserved mine

Of tears that fell too easily, no sound, in my 4th year biology class;

Too young to feel that pain, too young to feel a man’s grip, too young to know what to do with it.

It was never your fault, always Circumstance’s,

Was she tired of covering for you, or was she in on it?

Broken mothers, drunk fathers teach us this,

That helpless circumstance deserves forgiveness,

‘Let them walk back in’,

But some hurts haunt, and are too much to forgive,

Too little time, to fill the hole you left me with.

Perhaps I could forgive you, if I ever saw the hurt you hurt me with scar your skin,

But for the latter of our younger lessons, you will grow elsewhere,

Far from me, that’s it.

And not that I have to explain anything more than the kindness in my ignorance,

But I had a life to live, another soul to love, more to give

To a soul who deserved me, and cherished it.

Perhaps you felt like you had no choice,

But no choice leads to a choice, doesn’t it?

You ran a bath for me, and left through the back door,

A note telling me you’re coming home, that was it.

And that’s true pain,

Not knowing the time, your wait infinite.

But finite in my time it is

Because you’re just you again,

And I burned the house down.

There’s no way back in.

—-

I cannot believe I’m here.

Free, loved, surrounded by gifts;

People who really care, and put others first

Like we were born to do it.

There’s two different worlds in the one we are all in,

And being hurt is different where he is:

Because apologies exist, not words to make you believe it was not him,

Because you can speak without fear, no threats when you speak for your humanity,

Your dignity, whatever it is.

I can breathe when he leaves because silence isn’t a threat with him,

And where my eyes aren’t, a heart is.

And I don’t know what it is, or why, or how, or the disbelief in the fact that I was ever capable of it,

But I trust him,

So I’m myself around him –

Not a little girl with big eyes that looks up to him,

An equal who laughs, and shares herself as if it’s as easy breathing:

A human bloody being, not a 2D piece of paper that shimmers for him.

I’m not sure if you can put abuse into words,

I think the most talented among us would struggle –

It’s an unspeakable feeling that keeps you alone.

It’s a part of me that stays in the shadows,

And I wonder if I’ll ever speak about it without feeling crazed, panicked,

As a prisoner of his reputation, control,

But sometimes,

When the lights gold,

And guitar strings hold my fractured mind

Far from perfectly but soundly,

When the stars are above, my head tilted,

Your breath on my neck,

A friend laughs,

I forget, and he is no more,

A life I maybe could have lived.

—-

Thoughts of you hug my soul,

And paint my lungs pink,

Easier to breathe in, easier to live.

I think you’re too good for me,

There’s no black in your heart,

But mines infested.

And I know you see the slope in my shoulders,

From the weight of the things I’ve seen,

And the tears that I have to hold in –

I know you think this redeems me

But it doesn’t change that you’re too good for me,

I can’t give you what you give me.

What’s worse is that you’re okay with it,

You’re okay with a cold breeze in your bed,

A cruel, harsh at best, tongue in your head.

It fills me with regret,

A whiplash of guilt against my breast;

And I want to love you,

But after something else –

I want to love you, without hurting ourselves.

So I’ll ask you to wait for me,

To be my friend,

So I can love you safely, without pain, without deceit.

But I fear he won’t wait for me,

Because he’s too good for me,

And there’s a girl,

A girl who’s kinder than me, softer,

More of who I used to be.

—-

I wish you knew her,

She was bubbly, inappropriate perhaps,

But you would have found it funny.

She was trusting and brave,

Fought without fear

And loved with an open heart.

I never thought he would have done those things,

And I wish you’d been him so that it was true and I was still her, the young girl with grace.

But he did do those things,

And you weren’t him so the truth turned sour and now I’m me, a woman who can’t sleep.

I don’t think I could ever breathe life into her again,

Even after years of love, and safety, years of you.

That’s the saddest part, I think,

That I died, and yet, I am not dead.

I tell you purgatory is real, real and true,

I’ve seen hell, and it‘s true too,

That a lifetime is just a few minutes;

I sat on the end of my bed, whilst the broken parts of my mind cut me red raw,

Wondering if it will ever end,

If the devil in my head would ever let me see light again.

I wish you knew her,

The girl he murdered with all the violence a small man can summon,

The irony of it:

I killed myself loving a man not knowing he wanted me dead.

—-

I think if you could write your words like I do,

You’d tell me you love me all the same,

That you feel her in the kisses I give you,

When I write poetry, better than I used to.

That just as the seasons change, I have matured too,

No two summers the same,

No winter, no gain.

That dark, bitter coffee trumps the milky stuff,

And coldness is alluring.

You’d tell me I look lovely in my stormy moods,

Skin stretched over stone,

Eyes masked.

You’d tell me it makes you love me more,

when you finally hear my laugh,

and you’re the one to pull the thunder back.

You’d tell me that besides all that,

I’m still wonderful,

And still the best;

Love is not an exchange, it’s a solo act –

One can only hope it is reciprocated:

He did it on his own, not at my request,

So you and I, we are worthy of it.

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