Regurgitation

I've got many words,
gathered over the years,
most of them weigh me down...
But I can rarely say them out-loud,
for I know that, if unleashed
it could be mountains, that they bring down!

When did the Shades of Gray Overcome the Blacks and Whites?

When did the shades of gray overcome the blacks and whites?

Things seemed much more urgent when I was younger… The yearning for love, much more painful… The emotion itself, much more overwhelming and intense… Words like “love” and “hate” came as easily as “like” does these days… There was none of this politically correct junk of trying to understand different perspectives and tolerate views completely opposed to my own… There was no in between… The answers to questions were rarely anything but “Yes” or “No”… The word “maybe”, which has dominated my language over the years, barely existed in my vocabulary back then. I either wanted something or didn’t… and the possibility of that changing was non-existent as far as I was concerned.

Smoke Screen

Those who truly know me often say I’m too honest.
because I can easily say things like
“it was just sex” or “I never had an orgasm”
but the truth of it all is that I can say these so easily
because they help me keep
other secrets that if shared
would certainly make me weep…
I know for most women the heart is hidden
between their legs as much as it is within their chests
and sex is rarely ever just sex…
but if you’re like me and you learn early in life
that the ones you love will never really love you back
and that the only thing they seem to appreciate is your sex
it ceases to be a sacred ritual of love
and morphs into being the only thing you can control…
so you learn to give yourself separately,
instead of body and soul…
you learn to live life
half asleep and half awake
because you can see clearly
that if you don’t, it’s your heart, that will break.
just like an old and fragile building after a disastrous earthquake...
if you let it, your heart will break!

Giving up on Fairytales...

For approximately twenty-four years I had managed to hold on to my faith in love. And by love, I don’t mean the “ we’re family so I love you” kind, or the “of course I love you, we’ve been friends forever” kind. I mean the kind of love that takes long and heartwarming novels to portray, the kind that makes your muscles all tingly and weak, the kind that makes you forget to breathe while thinking, because you’re so mesmerized by just the thought of the other person… The kind of love, people often call “true love”. Then one day, my twenty-four-year-old body woke up to an entirely different person in charge.