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Things we tend to Omit.

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Smiling in the faces of judgment; Laughing in the midst of repugnance.  We’d rather masque our shortcomings for image than to embrace them for testament. I’ve fallen beneath measurable lengths. I’ve committed myself to wholehearted distrust of my maker. I, thus, have failed.  In an effort to still omit during alleged transparence, I opt not to share the gory details. One hundred ninety one days ago, I thought I could bear no more. It was the end, I believed. The lifting outweighed my strength, the tears overran any holding, my smile was ornamented with pain. So yes, even I thought it best to leave it all behind.  But let me tell you the God I know. The one who continues to love me in spite of my failures. The one who picks me up when I’ve dragged even His name down. The one, period.  We may never understand many things that exist and occur around us. God may allow things to happen that we find fault in, that we might question. Be certain, still, that …

Broken.

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I used to soar. Swiftly, softly, sometimes. I used to float. With flexibility. I used to. My wings have been shafted under the wind of disappointment. You. Told me things I believed in love, but belief is a personal problem only to be dealt by self. Fool me once.  No shame.  You ran a game I never knew I was playing. Hurdling over puddles of tears, vaulting in the shadows of 7 (or was it 11) years, I’m out of shape. Breathing deep trying to inhale your peace that I may sleep at night without fighting the demons that enter my dreams reminding me, silently, that no matter how many times you spoke the words, it never would have been me. You loved. Fool me twice. !tfihS. Blame it on me. Shame it on me. Pierce my skin with invisible weapons. Hope and promise and love or. Lust after me, moisten my lips with your kiss that I may only hear your desires, and never see your lies. Pierce my skin with invisible weapons. Hope …

Letter from a ‘bitter’ -ex

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Hey, I’m just writing to touch base. Well, really to skip base ‘cuz we don’t need to see eye to eye. I know at this point I’m supposed to be an adult and tell you how much I’ve grown… to tell you that I think we can be friends and I forgive the enemy in you, for good this time, but again. Perhaps I should apologize, too, for all the wrong I did that led us to the end. It would probably massage your ego if I even said I missed you. I don’t. For years I ran from running. I didn’t want to give up when I needed to realize it was time to move on. I was weak. I sat upon a valley-ed peak as if that seat were comfortable. It wasn’t, but we were.  You know how you grow so accustomed to something that you don’t want to change it? It’s like trying not to fix something that ain’t broken, but Lord if my vision wasn’t crossed as hell seemed heavenly. Hell. …

Catch

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Twenty two years ago I already knew I’d run to you. Love. I didn’t know I’d be running from, too. Who keeps teaching us that we need relationships to accentuate our greatness? How are we to define ourselves when we are constantly looking for someone else to help conceptualize us? I’m not chasing, anymore, and yet shorty you keep swinging my way. When my hugs stared in your eyes and the vibrations of my chords grabbed your soul you didn’t know if we were music or noise. you asked me to show you but your lips dance all day. take your headphones off so you may see. chose the lavish. so we’re the latter. now. and grass don’t even grow there. My falsetto moonwalks at the tip of my tonsil when it grips the idea of you. You who asked me to teach you visual-kinesthetically but closed your ears to see me. Can you not feel the raspiness begging for clarity? I was stutter step chasing while you square danced around me. Now my falsetto can rest as …