When I was with you, I would sometimes pretend that you had died, so I could try out the truth of living without you.

And now that we’re apart, the reality of your being very much alive and not here with me is more than I can bear.

I feel you everywhere.

You permeate every thought, every dream, every moment that I am conscious or asleep. Even though I had to let go, even though you have replaced me, I perist in you.

You’re in my coffee, you’re on my deck, you’re in the shower and in every bite of food.

You were singly the greatest love and the greatest wound I have ever or will ever feel.

I am undone.

Lonely, the only companion
When you reach to turn out the light
Rollover, and say to the pillow,
Good night, my darling, good night

Cause you know you’re sleeping alone,
You know, even though he is home,
The only smile returned in the mirror
Is the one that you give your own

And I’ll spend forever beside you
Least that’s what I promised that day
And I’ll wish and I’ll try and I I’ll fake it
Til someone sweeps me away…maybe someone will sweep me away

And tomorrow you’ll rise to fresh daisies
But not in a glass or bouquet
They’ll come via text from an old lover
Thousands of miles away

And how hard would it be just to hold me?
To wrap your arm ‘round my waist?
To breathe in my ear that you love me?
That you look forward to seeing my face?

I’ll spend forever beside you
Least that’s what I promised that day
And I’ll wish and I’ll try and I I’ll fake it
til tomorrow sweeps me away
Perhaps tomorrow will sweep me away…

The words you tell your disciples
The ones who think you’re so grand
Belie the truth that’s inside here…
I am conducting a one-woman band.

I’ll lie here and wait, for now, Dear,
tomorrow will sweep me away…

I heard an interview yesterday with a singer songwriter who told of going to screaming festivals when she was a kid. It was a great release to be able to lean back, let go, and let out whatever howl was inside. I thought about my childhood, my marriage, how different my life might be if I’d given myself that kind of permission. Instead, like the interviewer described the singer’s new, very quiet album, I did the “opposite of screaming.”

The opposite of screaming is telling yourself good night before you turn off the light because though you’re not alone, no one else will say it to you

The opposite of screaming is crying into your eggs as you stir them because though you’re not alone, no one else will share breakfast with you

The opposite of screaming is staying in the rocking chair for much longer than needed because though you’re not alone, no one else will want to talk with you after the baby’s gone to sleep

The opposite of screaming is knowing that your dog is your best friend because she’s the only one who’s excited to see you when you come back home

The opposite of screaming is getting licensed to a massage, so you can feel the skin of another human being

The opposite of screaming is having an affair with someone much younger than you just because they asked you to 

The opposite of screaming is leaving your marriage, writing your truth, and forgiving yourself every single day.

She used to lie on the white carpet in her grandmother’s living room, watching the pendulum on the grandfather clock. How curious, the extremes it took to keep the momentum going. As if time itself depended on it.

And one by one, they plucked the wings off of the good idea fairy.
Flying was no longer an option
So she learned how to climb.
Foot by foot and hand by hand
She elevated herself above her station.
To a place where she could see over the horizon
And to what lay beyond
Though she was missing a piece of herself
That she’d formerly thought was integral
Soon she learned that all was not lost
For even when a power claiming to be greater than yourself
Takes away the one thing you treasure most
You can dig deep, get brave, and continue to rise
Wings are not the only way to fly

i did not have the 

strength to go with grace, instead 

i fell to my knees 

the river witness

to my utter destruction

our innocence, lost

i left the home where 

i’d swaddled our two daughters

and relearned to walk

Headlights ‘luminate the lane divide
As the cornfields turn to homes
Headed eastbound now he thinks of her
All the times he held her close

In those days when they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,

For awhile the distance broken
Holding on without a word

So much fun playing cops and robbers
No way it’d ever work
He’s all rules and regulations
She all poetry and verse

In those days they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,
For awhile the distance broken
Holding on without a word

Some days he aches for her Botero curves, DaVinci smile
There’s too much now for him to lose
He can’t succumb to his desire

So, late nights flirting ‘cross cell towers
Is all that there can be
There’s no meeting halfway anymore
Cause one plus one, plus one, is three

He’ll text hello when it’s him and her and his phone,
And she’ll say, “Goodnight, Sweet Man” awhile after
And she’ll go to sleep alone

And tomorrow when the sun arises
They’ll each stand beneath the steam
Separate showers, once were shared
Long ago in a dream

In those days they’d meet up
In between his world and hers,
For awhile the distance broken…
Holding on without a word

His new friend

offered to move him in,

Offered to support him.

She told him that if I had

Really Loved Him,

I’d be the one

Making The Offer.

That that’s

what love is.

Thankfully, I know

that’s not Love.

That’s

Manipulation.

I do love him.

And I love me.

And so, I said

No.

(Title borrowed without permission from The Nields. Hope they won’t mind.)

You are not my raison d’ etre.

No longer the sun that I orbit around

She has done for you in 4 weeks what I could not accomplish

in 4 years:

Get you sober

Get you praying

Get you work

I know it’s unfair because you did so much to heal me

And now that it’s your turn I am too healed 

To be your savior

For I love myself too much 

And my kids and my friends are too dear

For that sacrifice

Isolation. Complete devotion.

It’s what you require and now that I am here

You are there 

And I cannot be who you want

And I do not want to be who you need

I want to be me

Free

I want to fly solo 

Spread my wings and see just where the winds take me

For I know

It is my time to soar.

I am happy for you

And I will hold you in my heart

Deep, deep in my heart

For all of my days

For always. 

It never gets any easier, not when you’re 15 and you *feel* your body rip to shreds at the mere thought of *it* being over. Not at 22, when all of your life plans made around *that* relationship fall to pieces, and you spend an entire summer wailing along with Melissa Etheridge’s, “Like The Way I Do.” Not when you’re 51, and your long-deceased marriage is finally declared dead (that’s actually an entirely different sort of ache), nor four years later when your rebound “what-you-thought-would-only-be-a-2-week-fantasy-fling” flames out due to kids, and work, and politics, that pandemic puppy that you knew was not a good idea. They all hurt. But at 55, what compounds the pain, is the knowledge that you *will* get through it (because you always have). You can’t wallow in bed all summer, you can’t cry all night on the phone with your bestie (because *he* was your bestie,) you can’t even eat a pint of Ben and Jerry’s (because then you’d *really* feel like shit). Balancing the *knowledge* that you’re going to be just fine, with deep the pain of the heart is so completely unsatisfying. You might as well get over it already. Maybe, I’m a glutton for punishment. Maybe, I *like* wallowing, maybe, just maybe, being a grown up kinda sucks that way, and sometimes, what you *really need* is a sad, sad song on the radio and a drippy mascara cry while you walk the dog in the early morning light. (Even as the sun shines through the trees and you hear yourself thinking, “You’re going to be alright.”)