Do you have memories that are oft forgotten, but a certain smell, or sound can trigger the memory to play so vividly you feel every single thing you felt that night.
Winter, brings the pain and the heartbreak for me. The snow crunching beneath my feet. I was eighteen, I was wild and beautiful and I was walking home at four in the morning with a man almost twice my age and two hundred dollars worth of cocaine in my pocket.
I was so happy. The air hurt my face, and Carl and I spilt his last cigarette. The night was blurred but I remember being in his bed. I remember him telling me he cared. I remember the lyrics he wrote about me. And that he couldn’t sleep with me.
He said he wanted to and that I was beautiful. But I think he just wanted to take care of me.
The wind is harsh on my skin and I must admit that I love the feeling. I primarily have used this blog as a place to write poetry but I would like to try something new. I was to take more time to explore myself and my thoughts and I want to expand my horizons.
I want to write not only in metaphors and stanzas. I will be writing bluntly about many aspects of my life. a wide range from fashion and lifestyle to mental health and sex work. I want to write about ugliness as much as beauty and I am aware that not everything will appeal to the same group of people but I just hope that some of what I write will speak to someone.
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.