Hi there insecurities.

You look leaner, organic, full of good things.

You been working out?

I can see the definition in your fervor. 

The muscles in your pungent. 

You’re looking resilient and beautiful these days. 

I can smell you, did you switch up your signature scent? 

You seem confident, full of self-love. 

A vision.

 

Me?

I’ve been exercising now and then, cut down on the cigarettes, went gluten-free. 

I got married, and now as I am trying to relax into it, here you are. 

I was feeling pretty good when we parted ways.

I knew I had hurt you.

I knew that my leaving meant the end to a relationship that had lasted almost 3 decades. 

But I had had enough of you. 

You were mean.

A bully. 

You fucked with my head, my body, my self-worth, my everything. 

You made me believe that I was what you said I was. I never knew how to say no to you. You were so sweet, the way you whispered in my ear, the way you came at night right when I was falling asleep.

The way you followed me when I’d look in the mirror, or when I showered. You made me forget my body, told me it was a cage. You made me indulge in methamphetamines, promiscuity, violence…

You told me no one would love me like you loved me. That this armor I carried, this heavy armor, was armor only you could haul.

Oh fuck, and I believed you cause I knew you’d never lie to me.

How could you?

You adored me.

You said it over and over and over until all I could feel was the heavy thrum of your love. 

But then I met my husband, and I couldn’t keep you around. There was no room for you. 

I couldn’t fathom having you around, while I slept next to him, made love to him, enjoyed him.

But here you are.

Beautiful. 

Lean.

Gorgeous.

Wicked.

Ready to devour.

You know my softness, my trembling.

My crevices.

You know where to slip in.

You’re a predator, with handsome teeth, hard hands, a war in his mouth.

Hard to resist.

But I can’t indulge in you. 

I refuse to fall in love with you again.

I want bliss, simplicity, calm.

I hate storms that aren’t necessary.

I am not in a drought, my buds are bursting, spilling like lava.

I don’t want your venom, your spite, your misery or woe. 

I want the ample gates of love, the heavy thrust of trust. 

I want the balmy taste of magenta on my tongue. 

I want soft teeth to tug at my ankles, lovingly. 

I don’t want tattered limbs, or bloodied knees.

I want love.

I deserve love.

I refuse to carry your cross.

I will not wear your crown.

Instead, I’ll burn to ash.

My purest form. 

2 thoughts on “”

  1. 6.5 words of rebirth song of self a journal entry of self-awakening & forgiveness. you are the author and i will claim this passion psalm also. 🌹🌹🌹🌹🌹

    Liked by 1 person

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google photo

You are commenting using your Google account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )

Connecting to %s