To My Unborn

To My Unborn

apologies for my inadequacies
barreling through love
as if she owed me everything
ungrateful for her calming touch
voice of reason
in my mess of confusion
this in mind
I’ll find you

some day
some way

The First Visit

Sebastian’s first visit to the vet.  I’m happy to report that he is as healthy as he looks and has no worries in the near future. At 12 pounds, the vet said I need to be mindful of his diet (admittedly, I feed him a lot so i don’t get his Puss in Boots face). He likes his bowl filled all the time so I have to feed him in increments now. This way he can have what he wants but he doesn’t get too much bigger. Unfortunately, it has been a while since I have had a cat lingering around me so I tend to give him his way a lot to make up for time I have lost with my other babies. I was a lot stricter with Kahlo and Piper, but it was a smoother transition when I got them.  I knew their history with them coming from a shelter; their documentation was there.  With Sebastian, we are piecing together his past. 

From this vet visit, I have learned that he is more than likely closer to 3 years old based on his teeth.  I was told he was 8 months to a year when I got him, but that I knew that wasn’t true based on my experience with cats in general. The vet told me that he is a Domestic Medium Hair even though I was thinking Long Hair and he could have some Maine Coon in him. I love that breed of cat so I thought  that was pretty cool because of their fur.  His coloring isn’t native to Maine Coons, according to vet, but the resemblance is there.  It really doesn’t matter one way or the other as I love him as any of my furry children, near or far.  Sebastian has given me perspective and a new sense of adventure that we are expanding on everyday.

Since I don’t have records on him, he got a Rabies shot and I was given a list of vaccinations that I should consider getting for him.  These decisions will be made in the next 2 weeks when I take him back to the vet for a follow up. For now, we will lay back and chill or as he likes to do–chase me around the house. Gotta love that!

Love’s Past

Love’s Past

in love’s past I lurked
checking on family exiled
from the compound
but her soul remains
spattered on my walls

I once used a shovel
to scrape off old paint
add color more vibrant
but her touch, a mold
extracting unsuccessfully

so I embrace the need
to breathe her in till death

forever one
forever was
forever loved

Journal Entry #27

Have you ever just looked at your life and cried hysterically?

The Lost Boy

The Lost Boy

I.

bones scream for sanctions
as Mother Nature creates
this incarceration
pushing joints to the limit
while Father Time reprimands
what’s seen as a gimmick
a cane in hand
finds this boy’s true tune
balance and chaos

II.

smile creeps across
a face unaware of his torture
his smooth blade creating
designs drawn in blood
for its purpose reflects
the shedding
of a past not ready to let go

III.

drip by drip
tears form puddles
at my bedside detailing
layers of failure and deceit
troubling concoctions brewed
by premeditated emotion
to obtain the affection needed
just to keep breathing
and I’m still not living

Am I Seeking Closure in the Right Direction?

In time, change is inevitable.  Around us and within us as human beings, something will have to change–eventually.  I’ve never been sincerely afraid of change as I feel I’m always in a constant state of  unknown the way my mind works. I tend to go with things, but this love thing has me stuck (I will come back to this). I’m learning not to consider myself damage goods because of the way I walk or with my mental inconsistencies making it hard for people to enjoy me for me.  One thing has always been clear, since the day, I had my head down on that table and she was smiling and eating, I knew that she was it.  In so many ways I tried to show her by the way I handled her with care, concern, compromising as best I could without totally killing what I held dear inside.  Why is it that it’s so hard to be in love when I know, both parties felt it so strongly?  I learned very early on that humans don’t all love the same way.  Some can love instantly and everyone they meet.  That’s not me.  I can love instantly, but the words take a while to form.  The feeling and actions begin to manifest in the attention I provide, but the words linger awhile longer in some other place.  I prefer action over words in 99% of the cases I experience in life and that 1% I figure I will just leave to chance.  Every relationship will have its problems, sometimes really bad times, and then good, really really good times.  I’m just not used to people loving me and it was difficult opening up to people.  With over a year of therapy, I have realized a lot of things in my life had been locked away; too afraid to face and thus have led to many predicaments and actions, I wish there was a God to take back.  For only this entity would be powerful enough to create the type of time travel I need to fix a past scattered with disappointment.  However, none greater than that of losing a family I didn’t realize I had until it was too late.  A family I dreamed of since I was 13 years old.

I remember our problems–me being angry all the time for reasons I couldn’t discuss because I just didn’t know.  I needed help, but just didn’t know to ask.  This led to drinking everyday just for me to find a sense of calmness; sometimes it worked and sometimes it didn’t.  She was on the end of that rage when I couldn’t find peace within myself.  Words can’t express how sorry I am for that.  It wasn’t physical abuse, but I would deem it mental destruction now that I know better.  Also, one of my best friends is my high school sweetheart-known her for over 13 years and my nerd wanted me to end it.  That was harder than it may seem.  Yes, at a time, we were intimate and yes, I love her, but not in the way that one loves their soulmate (my friends, so few in nature, are like my girl without the sex so if I needed, no matter the time of day, I feel compelled to move into action–this I could have revised).

See, with my nerd, I smiled at her in the darkness when she slept.  Moved her hair out of her face so I could get a closer look.  Wiped her nose when she was sick and made sure, physically, that she never wanted for anything.  I would get up in the middle of the night just to make sure doors were locked and the stove was off.  I rubbed her feet after work and wiped away her tears as best I could.  The smallest things I just did without thinking.  However,  I forgot about emotion–because I lacked it.  Somewhere my early years, I forgot how to care about feelings on the deepest of levels; knowing that sometimes reassurance is the only medicine.  I’m learning, with help, I’m learning.

My problems with her–my tears were scarce–foreign even so when she saw them she didn’t know what to do.  Sometimes, I just needed her to say I’m here, not try to fix what was broken for I needed that experience of fixing it for myself.  For it, I have grown.  Her parents, my biggest issue of all, as she is a big family person, hated me.  Without rhyme or reason, at first, just simply because our ethnicities didn’t match.  The pain that it caused me and still causes me is very hard to put into words.  The pain it caused her, the conflict I could see in her eyes, the pleas for me to adjust and adapt in her voice, virtually unbearable.  I succumbed to those pleas a time or two and it didn’t end well for me.  No need for me to rehash those moments, but lets just imagine some of the lowest moments one can have and go from there. Racism is real, I now know that more than ever, unfortunately.  The way I love Veronica is the way I wanted her parents to love me–she’s so close to them.  I wanted them to see how much of my world she had.  Where our hearts could take us.

Finally, she had too much and had to go.  A good decision in the moment for her, but I never imagined a day she would leave me, especially not like this.  Totally disconnected.  For a while, I got it.  I understood the need to rebuild the self.  I understood the need for me to get it under control, the anger and all the other little intricacies I’m plagued with that has nothing to do with me loving her the way I do.  My mind tells me that I will and can love that girl through anything.  My mistakes have led me to see her with other people.  The intimacy of a touch I was claimed my own, now theirs and I don’t love her any less.  The totally shut off of communication has not taken away the joy she brought me for almost 4 years even though I didn’t always show it.  So it stands 4 months after we broke up I proposed, and since I’m writing this, she obviously declined.  My love has never wavered.  Whenever she called or text, I would come assisting in any way I could even when my livelihood was on the line.  Even when I knew she was with someone else and she needed help to fix something detrimental, I was there.  As mad as I was, my love’s stronger.

I was recently asked how I know she is my soulmate.  My simply reply: even now, she is the first thing I think about when I wake up in the morning and she is the last thing I think about when I go to bed.  I worry if she is warm enough in our snow storms as I am not there to blow and kiss her hands as she murmurs tengo frio.  I worry about her safety out in the world before my own and if there was a such thing as a genie, my sole wish would be that s/he place a permanent smile on her face and joy in her heart every single second of the day.

For this reason, it has been hard to hold a relationship with someone else.  I have met some great women and I have tried to make it work, but none greater than a soulmate whose essence will not allow me to move forward in peace.

The Wrong Thing

I must be seeking out heartache; having a desire to know what is going on in a life that no longer belongs to me. Mentally, I am there, ashamed by my failure and devastated by my lost. Physically, miles away isolated in sorrow.  My babies no longer smell me or see me as their guardian.  Instead, they lay next to another man who probably treats them just the same–with love. That used to be what I wanted for the three of them, but now I want them back. Piper and Kahlo would learn to love my male lead, Sebastian. A true “king” in how he prances about commanding attention.  This isn’t about my new addition.  This is about an ex and what I still call family.

How could the right thing be to let go of what I love so much? The saying if you love something, let it go; if it is meant to be, it will come back to you is bullshit. I’ve shed blood, tears and everything else and now I’m ready to give everything up to claim what’s mine. A sacrifice for what I hold dear at an expense I’m not sure how great.  This is not a want, it is a need. Sebastian keeps me sane, but the void of what I’ve lost, after seeing him and them with my own eyes is bigger now. What would you do for the one thing you love most of all? Me, I’d give my freedom. I’d give my life.

Hear My Plea

Hear My Plea

without Anger as my guardian
Sadness no longer coordinates
sneak attacks
now proud and bold
seen in public
and out for blood
years of neglect left
the feeding frenzy isolated
to a childhood memory
long forgotten

with Anger’s desertion
in fear of destruction caused
heartbroken turmoil wrapped
truth in shackles
dragged by the neck
and I’m left lost in discomfort
confused by emotion
so foreign it’s new
scared it’s loose
in a world clueless
planning my demise

used to living clear and concise
without care
it now scratches
my heart with eagle-like talons

tears fill buckets without refuge
hear my plea
Anger, my friend
come back please

Love Dweller

Love Dweller

I.

on this road travelled
see the skids where I tried to stop
in a position where I left it there
my heart still beating
however, naked and bare

II.

animosity burns its victim charred
to the 3rd degree
now you take your time to heal
regain how to feel
I’ll just wait on chance

III.

tear drops call my name
I ignore the pain
this old heart still feels the same
it won’t change,  I still smile
every time I hear your name

Skeleton

Skeleton

tried to put my skeleton
in the closet
his shoulders too big to fit

sweat beads up on brows
when I feel strangers creeping
up on secrets I can’t share
how will it be judged
as the sunshine hits its surface?

I pop pills for reassurance
confiding in my skeleton
my objectivity the least of worries

as I
shelter it
harbor it
labor over it
to make it clean

trying to erase its stains
tubes of ceramic glue scatter
my world
the last hope to close
the cracks I see  everyday staring
back at me