I poured out my heart into the desert of Nothing.
Now I am empty.
My lips dry.
Will that next promise quench me?
Or be yet another mirage?
The WordPress.com stats helper monkeys prepared a 2012 annual report for this blog.
Here’s an excerpt:
The new Boeing 787 Dreamliner can carry about 250 passengers. This blog was viewed about 1,600 times in 2012. If it were a Dreamliner, it would take about 6 trips to carry that many people.
I know it’s been a long time since I’ve written on here. It’s not that I haven’t been writing anything. I’ve been poking around on deadsville trying to get that done, but mostly it’s been because I haven’t been all that inspired to write the sort of thing I usually write on here. It’s a weird place. The woman I was writing all of these things for and because of has made it clear in no uncertain terms that I am not welcome in her life nor does she want me there, so it feels stupid to continue writing words for her. Especially ones that pine. I haven’t been all that sad and that usually motivates me to write on here, and usually when I am feeling okay I’m not moved to write as much. Kind of weird, kind of not cool. Because I would love to write happy stuff too.
Maybe I will some day but for now I’m simply floating in purgatory.
I think it was the disdain that finally broke me. Yeah. That was it. It was like everything I said was met with a sniff and a wave. That and the sneaky feeling I was nothing more than a puppy wagging its tail and waiting to be scratched behind its faithful little ears. Fuck that. I took off my collar, pissed on her rug, and took my flea riddled ass on out of there. No more smacks with the newspaper followed by “No! Bad dog!” for me. You don’t want this mutt? Fine. I’ll find me a place where puppy dog tails are exactly what the doctor ordered. Now, if I can just avoid the dog pound, I’ll find me a new home where a little face licking is properly appreciated. And maybe someday when you are surrounded by vicious, gnashing, canines trying to draw blood, you’ll think of that little mutt of a puppy that wanted nothing more than to lick your hand and get his belly scratched. But some other little girl will be rubbing my head and telling me how much she loves me, scruff and all. Yep. So, with a smile on my face and my tongue hanging joyfully out of my mouth I set off on my journey.
~ Chronicles of a Good Dog
Ft. Knox has nothing on trying to reach a guarded woman’s heart.
You can lead a heart to love…but how do you make it believe?
Go ahead. Run as fast and as far as you can. Call me when you’re exhausted and I’ll come pick you up and take you home.
Come, my love, and lie with me, come speak with me wordlessly, let my touch tell you everything, let my kiss mean something.
My heart’s compass always points at her.
If I built the tallest building, wrote the greatest novel, or became a famous man, and it didn’t win her heart, it would all mean nothing.
If I played the song of my heart for you, would you sing along and share it with the world and tell them you helped write the lyrics?
There is good love in this world. I have evidence of this in the lipstick kissed letter and present left on my porch this morning.
It’s up to me to stop chasing the darkness.
I am a stupid, stupid man.
I gave so much time to a woman made of ice. I found myself frozen in turn, unable to enjoy the warmth of another, so freely given.
Ever grasping at what lies beyond ensures we one day over reach and cause our own downfall. The quest for more leaves us with nothing.
I ponder these things on the day that celebrates my fatherhood and wonder: what can my children learn from a man who has learned nothing?
I have found your answer. It is no. Now I must find a new question. One whose answer is yes.
There is the fire of agony. There is the fire of ecstacy. Let both forge you into stronger steel.
My heart is large like the sun, for no matter how it burns, I find more fuel to feed its flames.
Apparently I never wrote for love, merely ego.
Sex is a poetry of emotion in motion. Or at least, it should be.
Lust and love both have four letters and are often confused for each other. Twins that appear alike yet are different on the inside.
She came packaged in long legs, silky hair, and beautiful lips. But someone had removed her warning label and when I opened her I got hurt.
I keep traveling down this lonely road wondering when it is going to lead me home.
I loved, I lost, I tried, I failed, I was right, I was wrong. I am a man that loved a woman wholeheartedly and for this I am not ashamed.
I’ve never felt so ugly as when her eyes admired another,
I’ve never felt so unwanted as when she wanted another,
I’ve never felt so unloved as when she loved another,
I’ve never felt so lost as when I lost her to another.
Perhaps I should have been more patient. I know for a fact I should have been stronger. Fucking love. Makes me weak when I need to be strong. I always thought it was the other way around and love made you strong when you were weak. But I suppose that is only the case when the other person loves you back. It requires strength to be patient and I lost both when she told me she “Didn’t feel it for us.” Those words exploded every little hope and dream I had. Once uttered it seemed such a waste to even pretend anymore. It seemed pointless to continue to torture myself when she seemed so certain about her feelings. So I left. But doubt began to creep back in. What if all I needed to do was keep fighting? What if all I had to do was keep showing her what she meant to me. What if I had been more patient? What if I had bucked up and been strong and worked through the pain her words caused and kept going? What if it was only insecurity on her part that made her say that? She couldn’t really have known already. Could she? We hadn’t spent that much time together and the time we had spent together was fantastic. I thought. And she seemed to think so too. So what made her say that? She listed off the reasons but when she got to “My heart” my blood froze and my own heart struggled to deal with that fact. I had been so, so certain that once we got to a certain point that she would see what I saw. That we would work. I guess it was the depth of my feeling for her. I loved her so much that there was nothing I wouldn’t have done to make us work. No sacrifice I wouldn’t have made to let her know I was in for the long haul. But no. Those words cut me to my core and I ran away. If she had said anything but that I think I would have stayed, but knowing she didn’t feel us as a couple was more than I could take then. So here I am left with nothing but
maybe if i was taller
maybe if i was better looking
maybe if i was uglier
maybe if i was more cocky
maybe if i was more muscular
maybe if i was fatter
maybe if i didn’t think so much
maybe if i rarely thought at all
maybe if i was more shallow
maybe if i was deeper
maybe if i had my shit together
maybe if i had my shit together less
maybe if my house had been cleaner
maybe if i didn’t have my kids
maybe if i had kissed her better
maybe if i was more funny
maybe if i loved her less
maybe if i didn’t care at all
maybe if i was bald
maybe if i had more tattoos
maybe if i rode a motorcycle
maybe if i made more money
maybe if all i wanted was sex
maybe if i had taken the opportunity
maybe if i had just torn all her clothes off
maybe if i had never said goodbye
maybe if i had stuck it out
maybe if i had said just the right thing
maybe if i had done just the right thing
maybe if i hadn’t tried so hard
maybe if i hadn’t given it my all
The worst thing about saying goodbye to someone you love – besides the obvious – is never getting to speak with them again. Sure, you may get to say “Hi. How have you been?” every once in a while, but it won’t be the same. You won’t have those special conversations anymore; those long, meandering conversations that drift to and fro, not really having much of a purpose. I used to love listening to her voice. I didn’t even give a shit what she was talking about, as long as it played in my ear, I was happy. Sometimes I would get so lost in just listening to the sound of her voice I would lose the words themselves and realize I didn’t know what she was talking about. I was probably a boring person to talk to for the same reason. I just preferred to listen.
But, that’s all gone. Even if we were to talk now it wouldn’t mean anything. Her voice would still be magic to my ear, but it would just remind me of what I lost and what someone else is hearing in my place. I hope he listens well and I hope he understands that her voice in his ear is special or he may end up like I did.
Listening to her silence.
Is it cowardice to armor one’s heart against the barbed arrows of a Cupid gone mad? One who shoots his arrows without regard to consequence? Is it cowardice to wish to avoid the pain of his pernicious arrow sinking in to my heart alone? The arrow that he so maliciously forgot to also shoot into the one I fell in love with?
“Perhaps, it is. But I don’t care.” I think as I buckle the armor on and shut my beating heart away into the darkness once again.
I don’t know whether it is from the coffee on an empty stomach or the flurry of emotions that are swirling inside of me, bumping themselves along my nerves and up against my skin. I think it may be a combination of the two and I hope that the emotions aren’t able to find a crack in my facade and work themselves out. They are trying with everything they possess. I feel as if I have an earthquake dwelling within me and it is only a matter of time before I break from the constant shivering.
What started it? What was the butterfly effect? What seemingly innocent action somewhere else set into motion the little ripple that grew into this tsunami inside of me that threatens to drown me in ruin? I don’t know. It’s probable I don’t ever want to know. I wonder how he did it? What words did he use? What caught her eye about him? Did he make her laugh? Did he make her feel special? Did he make her feel sexy? What did he do that I never could? What was it about him that turned her on so much? What the fuck did he do or have that turned her away? What caused her to leave me here
shaking and shattering?
I’m in such a dark place.
Life is meaningless.
I look ahead to an ever expanding horizon of nothing and wonder why am I even looking out there? There’s nothing to see. A nebulous nothing awaiting to engulf all of my dreams. All of my hopes.
Swallowed up in the dark.
There was a light. A small ray of hope resting within a savior with brown hair and dark eyes, but I found it a mirage. A glimmer of light reflected from someone else’s happiness. Not my own. I had to keep leaning against the wind, traveling blindly through the sandstorm that blasted the skin from my body and laid me bare. Soon I would be nothing more than a bleached skeleton laying there in the dust. Oblivion my constant companion.
And I find I welcome this. Just to sleep that sleep. Fall over and never rise again. The journey wearies me. The destination a place I don’t want to go. Let that last breath sigh from my lungs and with it all of the pain.
Let me go numb. Let me not feel. Let me sleep.
And never wake up.
My hand remembers hers and feels empty without it. My fingers curl upon empty air and stare sadly down on nothing.
The memory of the warmth of her neck treads like a ghost upon my forlorn lips.
My body walks with others, but my heart stays trapped within remembrances of her.
Where, but for an accident of time and space, there would be a ‘we’, there is now only a ‘me’, lingering half undone.
All of these and more I see clearly in my mind, but fear they are merely cheap keepsakes.
Stuffed into the scrapbook of my mind where I frantically try to keep them fresh
But I know as time goes by they’ll grow harder to see
Like snapshots left in the sun…soon to fade.
there are words
that are stuck
forever within me
three fearful children
born of my heart
they linger there
hidden and scared
they doubt their worth
they fear their consequences
but as i watch
they run after
but too late
too far away for even a
so they just stand
on that desolate hill
and echo throughout the
canyon of loss
You put your hand on my chest. And you pushed.
You put your hand on my chest. And you shoved.
You put your hand on my chest. And I backed away
Leaving you making an empty gesture.
I wasn’t sure what that meant.
But I still felt the pain in my chest
From where you pushed and you shoved.
you keep busy. it doesn’t matter what you are doing. you just have to keep yourself busy, keep the mind occupied. make a lot of noise. scream inside of your head. whatever it takes, just so long as you drown out what your mind and your gut are trying to tell you. because you really don’t want to hear it. your heart starts pounding on the walls of its cage of ribs desperately trying to raise a ruckus. it covers its ears. screams “lalalalalalaaaaaaa” at the top of its lungs like a little kid that is trying to ignore some unpleasantry. you can’t let yourself think. you have to keep hammering the nails into those boards. sawing, sanding, shaping. keep building. keep moving forward. because if you let yourself stop, if you let your mind think and your gut knock the wind out of you, if for just a second you make your heart be still and shut up and listen to those tiny voices trying to nag their way to the forefront, you’ll be forced to look around and realize you’ve been busy constructing the kingdom of nothing.
and then where will you be?