Wednesday, January 9, 2013

"I'd rather smell coconuts"

I never truly wanted to discuss her... much too painful;
horrible to admit that I'd once agree to 'settle'
live without what I had held in my heart since I was a younger boy
to admit well,
 to admit meant I had utterly failed.
I was a prodigy.
I became a genuis.
Didn't occur to me that I could ever be stupid.
But I had been... for years.
  She cleaned the house...her scent was 'carpet cleaner'
her weight ballooned
  she dressed to least impress
the make up ended
the softness became hard;
unmoving
if there were emotion I certainly never saw it...

I was wrong for not voicing my discontent sooner... wanted to scream "stop me from feeling numb" "don't let this go...get to the point where I will shut this door and never turn back around"
But she didn't give a damn.
That day in the car, I told her I couldn't do this anymore. She didn't bother to inquire 'what' because she felt nothing. I wasn't someone to fight for...
I wasn't worth keeping
loving
I hadn't been for the last 15 years.

So I left. Or she threw me out, depends on who you ask.

The last time I saw her I glanced over at her, across the court room and wondered how I could've ever loved her?
How could I have layed with a woman so unattractive to me?
I smelled carpet cleaner couldn't help but laugh at my own stupidity for making things alright when clearly they could never be I chose not to deal with it.
lifted that rug right up and swept it under.

That was the whole of my marriage, have problems, ignore, wait it out and find our back never realizing that the distance became more expounded upon emotionally with each stretch
until we were miles apart and didn't give a damn

And then it happened.
I felt the crushing weight of truth fall on my shoulders like a ton of bricks
I felt the humiliation of failure embarassment for the dark days that I had needlessly endured
  my pride
stubborness
all to prove that I could keep my word but my word was a lie.

I had given that promise to someone else, years before.
I simply hadn't told her the truth about who I really was
whatI used to be and inevitably who'd I again become
I certainly didn't want to own this this tragedy my life had unfolded to be

I closed the chapter
moved on
went back to the origin of where I came from back before I afforded the darkness to take me
opened the book at its beginning and read the story of my life...

It didn't have to be this way
I didn't deserve what had happened
alright, I concede, some of it I had caused... overall we do tend to create our own realities, I could've done better.
I fought back.
Lost a hell of a lot on the way back to join the living.
I'm at peace, I learned that you have to tell the world not only what you want but what you deserve and what you'll offer in return
that you can't be selfish
cannot give yourself to someone who can't truly love you mainly,
if you bury your head in the sand you eat dirt.

In a dream I was offered a coin, to wear around my neck, to take the love of my life and I across the river when we die.
For the longest time I couldn't understand what the dream meant other than the feeling of gratitude for the geld to make the trip.

As I stand here, looking in the mirror, fixing my tie readying to take my place at the altar and marry the woman I should've married in the first place
it occurs to me that the reason I wear this coin with such passion is I found home, I will take her with me from this world and into the next nothing no one will ever seperate us again not time space or the ugliness of my past.

*Thank you Saws for allowing me to post my angst...

Hey, thank you! Every now and again John, or a ghost writer will pop up here, wanting to just take what's been vested and unleash it to the world. Anytime friend, and for the record, I thank the big guy everyday that I do not have carpet or have left anyone with a memory like that one *whew* (I usually wear coppertone lol)
have a great day, enjoy your life *remember that life is too short to dwell in the past, move on live out loud love and be happy From my hand to yours, Sawyer Saint Andrews (and friends, this week) *Photo's do not denote who has written on the blog.