Poetry Is Good For The Soul

n.g.// Southern California

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

And what else is there to do after someone tells you that they don’t love you any more except fall apart with the moon and put yourself back together when the sun comes up?

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

I got one of those permanent bracelets on my right hand.  I finally flew out of California.  I have a new job.  and a new car because my old one finally broke.  I wear vanilla perfume and spend hours at the gym most days.  My hands are more calloused  than they were when you told me to toughen up and dig myself out. But My hair is still long and  I eat more sugar than I should and  my mom’s words still hurt me sometimes.  I’m applying to law school this year like I always said I would. I haven’t gotten a cover up over the stick and poke you gave me that drunken night 3 years ago.  I’m still painfully quiet around people I just met  and that dry sense of humor you’d always call me boring for is still a part of me.  The music box you gave me for my birthday so many years ago still sits on my bookshelf.  - you only know half of me now

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

The metamorphosis of memories…

Sometimes they come bearing flowers; other times they come wielding knives. 

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

Being with him felt like hell most of the time but I loved him so much I convinced myself it was my heaven.

n.g.  // I would have gone to hell for him 

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

Burning bridges always hurts more when you’re the one that lit the match. What do you do when you regret it? A small chuckle and then a low whisper. You start to burn too. - n.g. // i’m burning

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

one day i’ll find somebody to build a home with, one with no explosive rage in slammed cabinets or quiet anger in the walls that leaves a lingering pain. our kids will fake disgust when they see us kissing and laughing in the kitchen while making breakfast but when they’re 17 and experiencing a love that looks less than ours, they’ll know when to leave.

n.g. // i didn’t see this type of love growing up and as a result i let a man ruin me

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

"I'm tired."  "Of what?"  "Failing myself."

n.g. // I don’t know what I’m doing with my life

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

I want to talk to you.

I want to ask, is what happened still holding you back from being able to love me again? Because I see you when you get home from work and inside I am dying to be greeted with a genuine hug and a kiss but all I get is a halfhearted hello while your eyes are glued to a screen. I understand you’re exhausted, but would that one minute of showing me love be enough to send you to the grave?

I try to explain how I feel but I can’t seem to do that without being a blatant annoyance anymore and trying to start a fight.

You make jabs at my seemingly lack of interest in sex and are quick to point out everything I don’t do for you, but why would my legs and soul want to open for you when you’ve beat my heart closed time and time again.

I’m tired of feeling sad and anxious all the damn time, but I’m scared to lose you again.

- What if I tell you these things and you choose to walk away? // n.g

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

hi, how are you really?

It feels like I glued myself together to stay whole and I purposely poke at the weakest spots I have to see just how much I can take before I break. I miss the old me.

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

Maybe my deepest, darkest secret is that I still fall asleep to the thought of you.

- n.g. // you weren’t supposed to hurt this much

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

And I realized that with time, the mere thought of you will stop hurting. I won’t feel a stab to what very much feels like my actual heart when I think of your face or your laugh, my heart won’t lurch in the direction of your house when I have no other option but to drive down your cross street, and I won’t feel like I’ve had the breath knocked out of my lungs when I see a truck or motorcycle that looks like yours. I won’t feel like throwing up when I think of you with somebody else, espeically those you swore I never had to worry about, and I will feel an empty peace at last. In two days it will be exactly one month (19  really will always be our number by the way, I don’t care what you have to say about that) that you said awful things to me but ended it bittersweetly by voicing your regret and claiming you love me. I’m sorry but I have to hold on to the hate you spit at me rather than the words of adoration, for my own sake. I can’t let myself hold onto the latter. I went to Home Depot sweetheart, and I grabbed myself a shovel and I’m digging myself out, even if some days the memories of you pass by like a strong gust of wind that push the dirt I had dug out right back on top of me. I have a long way to go but there are callouses on my hand that serve as proof of my effort and I won’t stop digging until I’m out. And guess what. When I’m out, there won’t be a single piece of you  attached to me. I’m burying you right into that hole you put me in and told me to dig myself out of. P.S. I know I’ll still bring you flowers sometimes. Better yet, I'll bring you a bottle of Jameson you can drown in. Maybe I'll join you.

 - After you left me I told you I was feeling low and you told me I knew where Home Depot was and to go buy a shovel to dig myself out, remember?

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

I need to dig a grave for you, fling dirt over my shoulder over and over again and bury all of the memories I have of us down in the black dirt. That’s where they belong, afterall.

But I know those memories. And I know you. They will rise like ghosts through the soft earth and return to me at 9am on a Sunday morning when I’m trying to enjoy a cup of coffee with my new lover who does not make me as sad, or as happy, as you.

- so what do I do with them? // n.g

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

Softness. That softness, I realized, is what distinguishes him from you. When we would kiss, your kisses held so much emotion in them they swallowed me whole. I think you intended for them to leave me empty, so you could take over everything in my life, including me. They didn’t leave room for me to breathe, to think. And with him, his kisses are so soft, so so soft. Our lips brush against eachother tentatively, still unsure of what we’re getting ourselves into. But while kissing him, I feel so much; my heart is racing, my thoughts are running wild with ideas of what we could be. His carresses are soft, his words are soft, his voice is soft, so so soft. Sometimes I don’t even know what to do with it, after being with your harshness for so long. I don’t know what to do with the space he leaves for me to just be, to grow by myself and if I want, to grow next to him. I didn’t know it could be like this.

- n.g. 

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

We let each other go and it was for the best, but I will love you until the clasp of the necklace you gave me breaks and I can finally take it off. Until then, it is  linked to my heart and I’ll have it on me where ever I go. As long as I have it with me, I’ll still have a piece of you. 

- I should probably take this damn necklace off but I can’t // n.g.

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

And as I walked by that old, green park bench where we had our first kiss, I felt the dirty ache of nostalgia wash over me in waves. 

- excerpt from a book I’ll never write // n.g. 

[coffeeandpoetrydarling]

I’m still chasing the feelings you gave me that night; like being high and the only drug there was you, like I was living for the first time.

- // n.g