I hurt so deeply
And you were afraid of drowning
I can’t blame you for this
I’ve been floating in it since I was 12
The hurt feels like home now
You can’t run every time the water hits the shore
All I needed was a lifeguard
And you disappeared
You can praise yourself for gluing my shattered heart together again
but don’t leave out the part where you dropped it near the end.
He gently stokes the skin along my neck.
He does it in a way that was never meant to be erotic
but rather like a father trying to sooth his child to sleep.
He kisses the top of my head to remind me once again that he is here.
That I am here.
It’s easy to forget every now and then.
I press my head deeper upon his chest.
Here things seem slow and calm and real.
He moves his face toward mine and grazes his lips upon my forehead.
Then my cheek,
and pauses at my lips.
He glides his finger over my mouth and I pout so we’re closer.
Sometimes skin to skin still doesn’t feel like enough.
His lips meet mine and they dance slowly,
In a way I didn’t think it was possible for me to move.
He tastes of the wine we had just finished
but I guess I was still craving it.
Maybe if I pretend I’m better he’ll love me a little more
I want my walls so tall you never bother climbing them.
I should be comforted by the way he holds me, and how he speaks to me to tenderly.
But all I can think of is how badly it will hurt when he is gone.
I hate that every time I hurt myself, I hurt him.
I hate that I cannot be well for him.
I hate that this is just as draining for him.
I hate knowing that he deserves so much better.
One year ago today I had an abortion. I didn’t think much of of it at the time but thinking back to what a crappy place I was in this time last year is so heartbreaking. I didn’t tell anyone I was pregnant when I found out, I decided to handle it on my own. I carried on like everything was fine. I would get up in the morning and go downstairs to throw up in the sink because my family would all be upstairs and I didn’t want them to ask any questions. I would go to university and cry in the bathrooms between classes and sit near the exit so I could run out and puke if I felt the urge without disrupting the prof. I called the clinic after class in the library bathroom because I couldn’t call at home in fear of my family hearing. After I made the appointment to have a consultation with one of the doctors I called the boy that got me pregnant, and asked him to meet me for coffee. Him and I had been sleeping together on and off for about three years and had never ‘gone for coffee’. We both knew we weren’t ready for something like this. We were both 18, living at home. We didn’t even know how to take care of ourselves. He offered to come with me to the consultation, I told him he wouldn’t be able to sit in but it would be nice if he could pick me up. I don’t dive and it was a brutal Canadian winter, I told him what time and what hospital and we said we would see each other then.
The consultation went smoothly, it was mostly making sure it was my choice, and if I was sure I knew all my options, and setting me up on a more reliable birth control (I was taking the pill before and my antibiotics I was taking cancelled it out). Afterward I texted him and I waited for half an hour, he just never showed. I took the bus home and I called him several times, he texted me saying “I have too much going on in my life right now, I’m so sorry but I just can’t deal with this as well”. I had never asked him to come, he offered and left me waiting without a word, I had a lot going on too, I was approaching midterms but if I just didn’t show, I would have to carry a fetus to term. I needed a ride home from the hospital after the procedure because they won’t let you leave anole so I called my best friend and she agreed to pick me up after. Once again, the proceeder wasn’t bad, I knew I was making the right choice and I was prepared to go through with it. There were 5 other girls in the room, I was the only one alone. I didn’t realize at the time, but I was so lonely, I was to hurt, I was so betrayed. But I was also so strong, and the other girls there were amazing, and my best friend was there for me in a way that I could never repay her for.
There’s not real reason that I’m writing this other than the fact that I don’t have anyone else to share this with.
I never saw myself as the type to commit. Going from one night stands and blackout drunk nights with men whose names I couldn’t recall if you asked, to spending evenings at art galleries and coffee shops, family dinners and movie marathons. Discussing upbringings and debating religious views. My romantic life has been switched upside down to something I am no longer ashamed of, and I am so grateful.
I’m sorry about the bruises
You got from trying to climb the walls
I built about myself
They are tall and strong
But they are what
keep me safe
I’m sorry about your eyes
They way the leaked over me
Was never something I intended to happen
I’m sorry about your bones
And the way they took home in my bed
After I stopped leaving my room
I’m sorry about the blisters and burns on your feet
You got after walking miles for me
Just for me to tell you to go back home
I’m sorry about your ears
And the way my lies will forever echo
In the drum like I almost loved you
I’m sorry about the taste I left in your mouth
Because no matter how badly you want to wipe it away
You won’t dare because it’s sweet and rare and irreplaceable
I’m sorry about your bed
And the way it’s filled with
Our memories and my scent.