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I suppose I never will.

I can feel like I’m moving in a new direction, or letting go of all the painful things; only to quite suddenly miss him like he died just yesterday.

And in the past week, he’s been back in my thoughts. I long for him in the morning when I wake up, and his name is somehow written on my eyelids when I try to sleep.

It’s not like I have some kind of special date coming up. We’re coming close on the half-year mark, but I know I’m not hung up over it. I passed all my important dates this Summer with grace and ease, relatively speaking. I held my common tears and bit my lower lip in defiance. Grief did not take the best of me this year. I doubt it will do so, again.

But I really miss him lately. For no reason other than I miss him. I miss him enough to dream of his face, and his smile. To have a stolen moment with him, as if I have to ask for one. And his voice was so perfect in my ear, that I lay in bed for a few minutes past dawn, replaying it over and over again.

I wrote more poetry, thinking that would somehow expel what feels like an on-coming storm. It only made me realize how fresh I can bring him to mind.

I don’t have any  clichés or fancy words to say this time. I don’t know why I feel surprised that somehow my thoughts of him cannot be reality. I only know that I find myself wondering when I’ll see him next, as if he was just here. I have to remind myself that I can’t wish for what cannot be, and the disappointment feels foreign. I feel as if I am just figuring this all out all over again.

Will it always be this way?


We are ghosts here, pretending the party still lives.

The Sun; to poke his latent fingers through the broken glass,

pays no mind to our borrowed rally, its beams piercing right through.

And in my bony fingers, I possess a thousand breaths, each one

from a different moment touching your skin; and your arms, they

fit like branches around my neck.

We intertwine, growing vines and shedding dead leaves.

Around us we are all at once Fall and Winter;

cold and falling, but always alive.

The taste of you decays on my lips:

a fragment of old flowers and the memory of your favorite mints.

If I close my withered lids, I can see your face, green from

your dashboard radio, and hear the old lyrics to our favorite

echoing tunes.

So long ago, when the word girl could describe me

with impatience and awkward lust.

When my desire was stronger than my need,

and I so often confused the two.

My heaven is a vapor, a grey memory for

someone else’s sunrise dreams. Those last

vibrations, still bouncing around,

becoming ever quieter still. The last chance

to hear you say “I love you,” exactly as you did.

My grip, like Death, to refuse release on what I once

knew, keeps me a phantom, an ivory skeleton, hanging

silently in my darkened closet. I can wait here, and I do.

It’s easier than you think.


I’ve been dreaming about him more and more lately. The other night, I dreamt that he was sitting at our kitchen table, and I had three days to tell him he was going to die. But everyone kept calling. I kept trying to get off the phone, and finally, I got down on my knees and prayed, asking God NOT to take him again. I remember begging. I find it strange that the keyword was “again”

He was calm and friendly, and waiting to talk to me. I wish people had stopped calling. I didn’t want to talk to them.

Last night, I dreamt about the mortuary. I dreamt that they were carting people in left and right, and some weren’t even dead. My mom was one of them, and she was blue, but was crawling off the stretcher, and forcing herself to breathe. I was so relieved. I didn’t want to have to bury her too. I also talked to a black lady who had recently died, and was buried there. She thought her family spent too much money.

Then, I left. I went to this new neighborhood where I was preparing for Aurora’s birthday. Jon showed up and asked me who I invited. I was glad he was there, because I needed his help. He helped me set up for the party, and we were laughing, because we didn’t know Palm Mortuary hosted birthday parties. (Somehow, no matter where I went, I was at the mortuary)

Then some of our neighbors were picking on our dog, and I went to investigate and one of them tried to rape me. Jon eventually fought him off, but I was scared to death. He was adamant about not wanting me around this guy. I felt a feeling of temporary safety, like, “he’s here, and I’m ok.”  The attacker kept persuing me, too.  I was almost tempted to let him, but I couldn’t. I don’t know why I was tempted, but Jon kept me from allowing him to over-take me. It wasn’t like I was attracted to him, but that I didn’t want to fight him off anymore.

I think I need to be extremely cautious about what I run to, in the coming months. I have a tendency to get into relationships FAST. This time, I’m making a conscious effort to stay single, and avoid a “Next”, which I have never done. (Seriously – I’ve had a boyfriend/husband since 1991.) I’m afraid of the loneliness,but I’m more afraid of what will happen to my girls. Appeasing my Skin Hunger isn’t worth their safety, and/or emotional health.

I think I feel really vulnerable, now that he’s gone. We had that stupid break-in in December, and although I realize that all of my friends would show up on my doorstep should something happen, I feel like I’m on my own, protecting my daughters.

I have never felt so vulnerable in my entire life. I need to learn to kick some serious ass. My bar-fight experience simply won’t cut it. And I’ve survived my own attacks on my person (secrets best left without details), but my children are all I have. And if they don’t have me, then who will protect them?

For the first time since this happened, I’m sorta pissed at God. Taking Jon, and leaving me to deal with heartbreak and loneliness is something I can accept.

But I’m the last barrier before my girls. THAT is unfair, and I’m putting Him on notice. He’d better not allow them to get hurt. Ever. I can only do so much on my own. I realize this means I might live a long, lonesome life, but my mindset says that’s OK, right now. As long as I can take care of us. As long as nothing happens to me that puts them at risk.

Jon can’t save me anymore.

Who I Am

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