Dirty and Broken

My soul aches and you consume it without thought.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Realisation

You sit broken in one room and I sit bereft in the other.

And I finally realise, I will never be what, or who, you need.

But that's okay.

Maybe it's not our time.

Maybe it never will be.

I can't fix you, and while I'm here, I can't fix me either.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Almost

Mornings are my favourite. It's when you hug me hardest, in your sleepy state. Leg hitched over mine, arms wrapped around my body and shoulders, unable to wriggle free. Pinned to the bed under the weight of your embrace.

It's in these moments that I think, maybe you do love me.

And I try not to think about how you drunkenly used me the night before. Only came because you were fantasizing about someone other than me. How you're drunk and I'm not even a little bit but you don't care about what I want, just what you want.

I used to look forward to nights, when we took our time and we played and touched and got a little dirty. But it's not what you want now. You want the old way. No emotions, no commitments, just fucking. Your way or no way. No strings.

Yes; mornings are my favourite. I can almost convince myself you love me.

Almost.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Seven Years

And nothing changes. It's still all the same.

I hang on and hope one day it'll be different. But I'm kidding myself.

Seven years and nothing has changed. It's never going to.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Leave

I don't know why I stay, not when you keep telling me you don't want me. Hopeful you'll change your mind. Hopeful I'll be able to change it for you. But you don't. And I can't. Why am I still here?

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Denial

I find myself begging for the only two minutes of affection I get in any given day, but I'm rejected — for the second day in a row. I turn quickly and bury my face in cotton so you don't see or hear me cry. I needn't have bothered. Your breathing deepens within moments; you're sleeping soundly.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Shame

I used to tell myself, John is a great dad, he’s just an awful boyfriend. But something occurred to me tonight: John is a proud dad, and an ashamed boyfriend.

The problem is, I don’t know what he’s ashamed of. I could guess, but I won’t necessarily be right. And while part of me says, if I’m not enough, not good enough, then just leave, a shameful, larger part of myself says, change something! Anything! But where do I start?

I’m beginning to realise I can’t make John love me. I’m making myself miserable trying.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

It’s not happening

I used to think that, as a divorcee, I’ve been married once already. If it doesn’t happen with John then that’s okay.

But then Violet told me that he was going to ask me, and I knew, as the excitement took over, that I wanted to be married to John, be his wife, be a mother to Emily. So I waited. And I waited, and I waited. All of his dates passed and nothing changed.

Violet was sorry. Sorry he hadn’t asked; sorry she had told me. And I was sorry too.

I realise now John will never ask me. He’s too afraid of commitment, too afraid to let someone in all the time. Too afraid to be vulnerable. Too afraid to love anyone other than Emily. Too afraid to share Emily.

But then the sadistic part of me takes over, and I remind myself, he proposed to her, had a baby with her, bought a house for them all to live their lives in. He planned a life with her.

I left my husband for him. Raise and love his daughter like she were my own. Killed my own baby for him. I have nothing left to give; but still, it doesn’t seem like it’s enough.

It’s time for me to decide: stay or go? Leave them, or love them unconditionally, with no promises in return. Give all of me until I am just a faded whisper of myself.

And I know then, despite how black and white it seems, there is a shade of grey in-between. 

I will continue to devote my entire self to these two people who consume my life. I will continue until it runs out. I will continue until it all becomes too much and I am lost. Until there is no longer even a whisper.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

48 hours

Two days. That’s how long it lasted. John was away almost twice that, but two days was all he could manage.

Two days of sweetness. Two days of making me feel like he missed me. Two days of smiles. Two days of affection, of lips and arms, and being held close. Two whole days.

And now he is done. Now we return to normal. Return to me feeling inadequate. Me feeling like I’m not who or what he wants.

Two days.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Exclusive

And it occurs to me that as I try planning a life with you in it, you’re busy planning a life with me no where in sight.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Disinterest

You've not really touched me in seven weeks. Quickies in the morning; two minutes here or there, you using my body to masturbate. It's not about me or us, it's about you. I've never felt less attractive.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

What Did I Do...?

Violet can’t keep a secret; not from me. She tells me everything. So when you asked her about rings I knew within twelve hours. I’ve known every hour since then. Every day, every week, every month since then. What she doesn’t know is just how drunk you were when you asked her. What I don’t know is why you’ve changed your mind.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Distance

It will never be my time. I will always only exist in your periphery.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

And If One Should Accidently Fall...

Five out of twelve beers left; John’s been home for less than two hours. I hate that he has to be drunk to want to be with me. To find me attractive. To find me sexy. To want to kiss me. To get his dick hard.

I hate that I have to drink to try and ignore these facts. To ignore the fact that he doesn’t want me. Doesn’t love me. Can’t even stand to look at me.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Your mind wanders, as does mine.

Your mouth has been on my breasts for nearly ten minutes. Not once have you opened your eyes. Not once have you looked at me. I wonder who she is? Who are you thinking of when your lips are on my skin? Is she prettier than me? Is she thinner than me? I don't suppose it matters in the end. It's not me. It never has been me.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Such A Waste

It transpires that John has never loved me. All the choices I have made, the people I have broken, the consequences I bear, have all been for nought. I am wasted. I am drifting. I am certainly dead inside.

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Falling

I considered today, considered how many people would miss me. How many people would realise I wasn’t here any more. How many people would give a shit. How many people would be affected. How many people would cry.

I watch John peer over the balcony again in silence, as if I’m not sitting with him. Not here at all.

I wonder if I would still be invisible to him lying below, broken and gone.

Would he even notice if I climbed onto the ledge and fell?

[hearthurtsheadsecrets]

Never

"Can I have a cuddle?" I ask, too drunk to know better. "In a minute," you answer. You said the same thing nine days ago; I'm still waiting. I should know better.