Sunday, August 29, 2010

good eat enough to eat

“What cute kids you have!”
Your benign comment rips open the stitches of my cancerous memory wounds
I could just eat them up
devour them,
One by one, with a spork,
Feasting on their adorableness
Shoveling them down my lonely empty gullet
And filling my belly with happy.
Making myself plump with your joy.
What? Is that not the way it works?
Because that’s my first instinct.
I mean, after the one that screams
“I hate you.”
I hate the fact that you have the swollen belly
Of a rambunctious pregnant woman
Who downs chocolate sundaes like Tylenol.
Brimming with life while I sit robbed of that glow
I hate your pristine smile, happy lips,
Bright eyes looking toward whatever the
Future may be for you-
My future was ruined.
I hate how happy you are. What you expect is exactly what I was expecting. Expecting to hold someone closer to your heart than you ever could. Expecting to add one more to your Norman Rockwell scene, painting an entire future in your mind’s eye for a pre-life cookie cutter child baking in your oven.
The pitter patter of undercooked baby batter runs rampant through the empty halls of expecting in my broken hearts shattered memories of expecting
Do you know what loathing is?
It’s seeing your joy, and your offspring springing around and from you, dressed in envy-green jerseys set and ready to play the ultimate game of life, each identical, sporting their allegiance to team Family.
Images of your happy content and ignorantly smug face being boxed and beaten with the sorrow of accident flicker through my mind as I put you in my shoes for an unwanted macabre justice from the unintended unfuture of my own.
Jam it between your finger tips
And up your eyeballs and in your
Hairy cunt.
I want you to know what it’s like
To loose everything- and maybe that way
You won’t flaunt your perfect life
And you’ll slow down and really,
Truly, see.

On September 10th, we're having a burial ceremony for Chatham, since that was his due date. We're burying a rosebud and lighting candles, casting circle. . . Hopefully it'll be closure. We're also picking up a baby blanket and giving it to a baby born on the 10th as a way to commemorate him.


Wednesday, August 18, 2010

dear heart

Sometimes I wish you'd fucking stop beating already, and others I'm glad you've stuck through everything with me.

Today was a hard, hard day. For some reason that I can't comprehend people fall in love with me. A lot.

Naturally, that's appealing, but it's also hurtful.

Sometimes you've got to choose between two people, and that can tear you and those two people apart.
Please tell me I'm normal for being hurt by my own decision. I don't know how my life will end up, and I know there's lots of ways it could, but who's to say one path is better than the other?

It's all so confusing, and I wish there was a roadmap, but I guess winging it will have to do.

I've spent most of the evening crying. Over the hurt I undoubtedly caused others and over the fact that I feel like I've ruined everything.

Two friendships that once were stable are now in shambles because I'm a huge flirt.