on marriage

Tomorrow is the day we originally planned on getting married. Our thought process was that we wanted it to be exactly 9 months since the first day we met, a birth.

Instead, we married on May 9th and the months that followed have been tumultuous at worst, and blissful at best.

Who determines what a great love is?

How do we approach love truthfully and uninhibitedly?

We are taught to suppress and lie and ignore feelings that live inside us.

Normal feelings like lust and annoyance, hate and anger, love and disappointment. We are taught that in order to have a fulfilling relationship, some things should not be spoken about and brutal honesty is ridiculous and unnecessary. But, is it?

I don’t mind growing pains because I am a fetishist for growth.

I thrive during growth.

I provoke it, and lure it, make pretty music for it and cook it good food.

I understand the foul nature of humans and know, that I too, can work on eradicating my bullshit.

That said, I am much better at being tactful. Brutal honesty doesn’t mean you have to be a complete asshole about shit. There are ways to communicate brutal truths in loving ways.

We feel and make mistakes and reconsider and disrespect and love and hate and discard and all of those beautiful things that are available inside us because of this ridiculous thing called the human condition.

I don’t want to sound preachy, or as if I got shit figured out, because I don’t. I’m in constant flux, but I try to keep integrity because I enjoy growing.

I enjoy looking back at old versions of myself and bestowing them funerals.

I enjoy the salve that truth offers, and relish in it constantly.

I want to blame this truth fetish on my being a Sagittarian, on my being a refugee of war, or on being a victim of sexual abuse, but it’s probably an amalgamation of all of these things, and all of the people, and all of the bullshit that is contained inside a human life.

I’m not unique, but I’m fucking unique.

I’m not special, but fuck, I’m goddamn special.

I don’t like to be told that my choices aren’t the right ones by people who need humbling.

I don’t like to be felt sorry for because of the things that have happened to me.

I don’t want pity, I want fervor.

I don’t want friendships, I want your soul.

I don’t want night’s out and pointless chatter, I want starved mouths with food in their pens and brushes.

Don’t talk to me about how you feel about poetry, write it.

Do it.

Fucking do it.

In the meantime, indulge indulge indulge in your fears, poke fun at them, caress them, punch them, fuck them, love them, choke them and then remember that they’re just little illusions magnified by the amount of time you spend giving them life.

9 months I’ve known this husband of mine.

9 months I’ve lived in and out of fear.

9 months I’ve failed and triumphed and failed again.

9 months I’ve loved him, and all his resurrections.

I love saying it.

My husband.

My husband.

My husband.




On Marriage

 Kahlil Gibran

You were born together, and together you shall be forevermore.

You shall be together when the white wings of death scatter your days.

Ay, you shall be together even in the silent memory of God.

But let there be spaces in your togetherness,

And let the winds of the heavens dance between you.

Love one another, but make not a bond of love:

Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.

Fill each other’s cup but drink not from one cup.

Give one another of your bread but eat not from the same loaf

Sing and dance together and be joyous, but let each one of you be alone,

Even as the strings of a lute are alone though they quiver with the same music.

Give your hearts, but not into each other’s keeping.

For only the hand of Life can contain your hearts.

And stand together yet not too near together:

For the pillars of the temple stand apart,

And the oak tree and the cypress grow not in each other’s shadow.



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