blooming in spite of it all

[blooming-anonymously]

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A little sketch about small acts of service.

I know you don’t need service. I can see that you’re OK. And I know that you don’t need me to, But I’d like to anyway.

So let me make you dinner. It’s the least I can do, ‘Cause I like spending time with you

[blooming-anonymously]

Chances

I gave you so many chances. The only difference is This was the first time you took me seriously.

The first time you felt threatened enough to act Was when it was too late. Don't pretend that's my fault.

[blooming-anonymously]

Villain

How dare you speak to me so sweetly Now, after everything you've done?

Where is your temper? Your carelessness? Your neglect? Where are your heavy, heedless hands When I need them most to steel me?

Make me no more promises No more overtures of devotion. I require villainy, If I hope to keep my resolve.

[blooming-anonymously]

Living in the Swing

I think on some level, I knew something was wrong. I told little half-truths to my loved ones and allies. I pulled away from my most beloved advocates and champions. I didn't want to believe the situation I had found myself in. I didn't want to admit to them how stupid I had been to let it happen Because that meant admitting it to myself.

I wanted them to like him. I wanted to like him. He was so sure and I wanted to be sure with him.

But with each new wave, I felt my cracks swell and weaken. I had to tell someone.

You can't put this sort of thing back in the bottle. I cracked the lid and months of regret, resentment, sorrow and fear came out in a torrent.

As I exorcized this weight from my heart, it spilled onto the table like tar in the shape of a man. And in that crystalline moment, I saw him.

I don't think he did any of this out of malice. I don't think he's a bad person. He was just a boy who had never been loved. And when I tried, it scared him.

He lashed out and I got hurt. Then we made up. This happened a few times, until I convinced myself that the swing was normal. Maybe the swing is normal for him, but it wasn't for me.

[blooming-anonymously]

Feral

In the beginning, he had his back up all the time. Like some kind of feral cat.

Over time, though, he came to love me.   He curled into my back at night and we slept. But he never let go of his vigilance. I thought if that if  I loved him enough, and deeply enough, He would forget he was ever hurt. But even as I touched him tenderly, he kept his eyes pinned on the door Waiting to dart if I struck him.

There were a few false starts. A few misunderstandings. He scratched me more than a few times. Was it because I moved impetuously? Was it because he startled? At this point, I can't remember. I remember only that it hurt. A little less each time, but it still hurt.

I began to anticipate his movements and his moods; When he would lash out I learned to be quieter. I learned to be easier. I learned to cherish the highs and weather the lows As his fear became my fear. Until I too began looking for enemies.

Did I domesticate him, or did something different happen?

[blooming-anonymously]

Convenient

He was never bad to me, But he sure as fuck was never good either. Especially when I stopped being the convenient option.

[blooming-anonymously]

“Baby”

For every key ring clenched past dusk For every invented boyfriend. For every storefront turned sanctuary. For every choice made between job security and justice.

For every “Honey” who, through the wet ink of her sex was smeared, and never had her call to arms.

For every one who did and was silenced.

You don’t owe them “baby.”

[blooming-anonymously]

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When you know you shouldn’t, but you do it anyway.

[blooming-anonymously]

you remind me of my ex.

“You remind me of my ex” “In a good way?” “No.”

[blooming-anonymously]

rejection letter

Don’t dither with self-pity. Instead, spin the wheel of self improvement like a religion

Failure is a whetstone, and it’s time to sharpen your point.

[blooming-anonymously]

What does he have ?

Last night I dreamed he came to me, Tall, golden and antagonistic. He said “What did you see in a guy like that?” What did he have that I didn’t?”

“Humility”, I said. And I watched as the lacquer of his smile began to crack. “Decency.” I went on. And little pieces of his topcoat started to flake away. “In the end? My respect.”

[blooming-anonymously]

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some things work better when set to music. Should I post more of my songs?

[blooming-anonymously]

I was a difficult woman, And you were difficult too. Maybe loving someone like me was too difficult for you.

[blooming-anonymously]

the fit’s not right.

Maybe the fit’s not right. Maybe my grip’s too tight. Maybe you’ve got no fight. Maybe it doesn’t matter

[blooming-anonymously]

love language

You and I are so different. I show my care through adulation, affection and praise. You show it through patience, and small acts of kindness.

So maybe, I pray It doesn’t matter that we speak different languages So long as we’re both saying

“I care about you.”

Even if everything else gets lost in translation.

[blooming-anonymously]

friendly fire

“I know what I want” He said offhandedly, As if I didn’t know exactly to what he was referring. “Really? And what is that?”

We spoke in code then, Testing the tensile strength of our understanding.

I didn’t plan for this one. Instead, I opted to shelf my neuroticism and leave myself unguarded.

Still, friendly fire is still fire.  

[blooming-anonymously]

Don't worry.

She's cleared the age of consent and she can legally drink.

That's all you need her for anyway,

So why are you concerned ?