Oh, how his flames leaped forward
to swallow the shadows
he could have melted me
but I am what he’s made of
a fallen star
a musical conundrum
the dust grips me
his natural state
a tornado of right now
a black hole of present
I didn’t want to escape it
All I wanted to find
was the why to this nothingness
It always matters
it’s always a big deal
hearts souls sex
those skipped heartbeats
hang em on the wall
as reminders of the times
you’ve once lived
1. Allow yourself to fall. Cry, scream, nap, do self care.
2. Get healthy. Healthy diet and exercise help with a healthy mind.
3. Talk it out. Find someone who is in a healthy place emotionally to talk it out.
4. Set goals to focus on for the next year. Not so focused they become a crutch just a means to move forward.
5. Surround yourself with communities that share your interests.
6. Trust your gut. When something doesn’t feel right, trust that. Don’t let people take advantage of your vulnerable state. If they weren’t there through the struggle chances are they won’t be there through the healing.
7. Move forward. Stay away from environments that no longer serve you. Learn the signs and patterns of toxic behaviors and set boundaries immediately so you don’t end up in the same situations over and over again.
8. Learn to be ok alone. Become your own best friend. Learn yourself. Take up hobbies. Feed your brain.
The Art of Letting Go
Thank you for security and stability
Your snuggles get me through my dark days
And your genuine laugh lights up my soul
I’m so grateful to have you as my other whole
I sank into a picture perfect fantasy
The memories are flooding back
The habitual reminders
Of why I stopped fighting
Why I slowly loosened my grip
I let go
I clinched my empty fists
And off went the leaf from my branch
It descended in a less elegant manor than I saw in my dreams
But fell just the same
Their togetherness relies on
their a push to love awkwardly
It relies on sex and fear
Silence and distance
Those things push them together
It doesn’t rely solely on her
Or solely on him
Not even rules or religion
It’s the bad little things
That make them
First thing today, is to figure out how he will love her. He loves her, that isn’t the question. But how would he show her? Yesterday, it was with a small note, I love you handwritten on it that hid underneath her tea cup. A teacup he picked out for her and filled with black tea he steeped the way she likes it. But, today was a new day and another chance to figure out how to love her. He walked to the kitchen and leaned against the counter to think. He looked around at the bills scattered in front of the Keurig and the pile of discarded recyclables by the trash. He takes a deep breath and fear overwhelms his thoughts. That feeling of not being good enough weighs him down. But she needs his love and so he pushes through it. I’ll find something in the living room. Toys surround the perimeter of the room. The plastic, colorful, and imaginative toys lighten his mood. But, his fears whisper the word tomorrow. Maybe tomorrow it will be easier he agrees. And sits in the rocking chair his wife nurses in. It’s an awkward chair, not his first choice, but it was for her. There’s no use in waiting a voice from inside says. He reaches into his pocket for a small notebook he carries around with him at work and goes to his disheveled desk for a pen hidden by months worth of mail to be organized. He walks back to sit in the awkward chair and taps his chin. Eyes shut tight, he writes I love you because you exist and I love that. Those words are embarrassing to him, but he knows she needs to hear it. So he tears the paper from his small notebook and stands up to leave it on her seat. He walks away and turns to look at the note. I should rewrite it. He takes a step. No, no she will like it. It’s good enough.
I crave instant gratification and
the lure of feel good meetings
with hollow words.
I want those things too
And sometimes I do indulge.
But it all leads to an empty that aches.
those scratches you can’t itch
And even though I know this,
I still have to remind myself
those things are empty
and that I’m better off home
creating something of substance