What once seemed like a fairytale

Turned into a nightmare.

You boast about my home

But you know nothing of fair.

What was once a sonnet

In a sea of eulogies

Has reared into a feast

For all of your cruelty.

I suppose it is my own fault

That I trusted with my entirety

In a man who knows only

Of himself, his deity.

So I shall venture on my own

Once more unto the shore

Of my own vanity

And of insanity;

This calamity

Of relationship sorrows

Until another fine thing catches my eye

And I forget all of this,

Until tomorrow.

My body is weak; aching.

My mind is strong; suffering.

I allow the anxiety to fester

ignoring the pertinent issue

telling myself:

it will all work out,

or it won't.

I am content

with discontent.

I look into the lifeless

eyes of the field mouse

left for me on my porch,

I stare and stare

searching for meaning.

I walk inside

as if nothing happened.

I continue to think

about that mouse,

did it suffer?

If so, then for how long?

I put it out of my mind.

I am content

with discontent.

The next day there is

a baby cat bird

and I think about

their annoying call

that they won't be able

to do anymore.

Their voice,

muffled and disabled.

Two days later

a mole who can

neither see nor hear

flattened on the road

trusting their senses to

get them safely across

the road.

Flies are surrounding it

feeding on its source.

I pass by that mole

everyday on my way to the

mailbox and I realize

I can at least give a

passing thought for the

mole, for their life,

for the flies who feed

have no regard to the loss.

I am no longer content,

with being discontent.

I arrive at my grandmother’s house, to say my goodbyes. She had been sick for some time now. My aunt was preparing dinner for her family and myself. My phone buzzes in my pocket. The caller ID is unknown, but I had been responding to band inquiries for a while now. I alert my aunt that I would be taking this call out on the back deck of my grandmother’s cottage. I pass through the sliding glass door and step out into the evening. Stars shine above an almost black lake. Some parts of the lake are glowing. They are golden from an eel like creatue with the head of a Chinese dragon. The eel moves majestically, being careful about where they tread. Water in certain areas of the lake parts to reveal beautifully golden and sparkling sand. The fisherman flock to these areas in search of sustenance. They coexist with this mythical eel and it makes me ponder my own existance.

There is someone talking in my ear, as I forgot that I was on the phone. The person on the other end is telling me about the rehearsal schedule and the demands that follow. It is a woman at first, then a man. The man becomes irate when I am interested in the lion and leopard that are taking refuge in my grandmother’s garden. I go back inside the cottage to inform my aunt and she tells me not to scare them away. They appear to be eating cat food that my aunt had set out for them. Next thing I know, the man on the phone does not think I am a good fit for their band. Click.

My aunt tells me there is food for me at her house. So I venture out into the evening and walk the short distance to her home. I let myself in because nobody locks their doors in this neighborhood. I search and search for the food that she had prepared for me, but I am unsuccessful. My phone buzzes again. This time, it’s an alert: NH residents stay in your homes. In all red, this flashes across my screen. I can feel my heart racing, then I notice that the sliding glass doors to her home are unlocked. So I go over to them and lock them both. Then I make my way upstairs to check on my cousins.

There is a figure standing in my cousins room, looming over her bed. They are alerted of my presence when I gasp. They turns to look at me but I can’t quite make out their face. I bolt. Down the stairs and across the street to my home. There is no one there and I am completely alone. I grab a knife from the kitchen to protect myself. The figure has followed me. I climb out of my window onto my roof. The evening breeze feels as though it will blow me off and into the abyss below. The figure is on the roof, staring at me. Still, no face. I turn away and jump.

My dreams haunt me,

but I guess that's why they're called nightmares.

I tried to escape you.

I thought if I ran away and joined the Army then they would

send me as far away from you as possible.

That was the plan.

But you were everywhere,

still.

Your image flooded my mind.

Flashes of your sweaty face dripping over mine;

your hot breath against my neck.

I cry out to my lifeless body,

pleading for any more fight left in me.

But I am dead.

Then, a flicker of light appears,

I must feed it.

I take the time to nourish my light,

to keep it safe and cared for,

so that when the time finally comes,

I can extinguish yours.

What does it mean to trust?

I open my arms and

My soul to you,

Hoping that you

Will keep me safe.

But my safety

Is not

Your priority.

Can I blame you?

No.

For your actions

Are human.

My humanity

Grants me

Empathy while,

Humbling you.

So I will forgive;

My body, however,

Will remember

The pain as

Muscle memory;

Reacting to each

Movement, unable to

Relent.

The abrasions on my skin

And the knots in my

Stomach,

Do not yield to the

Pain of safety

Ignored.

I do not blame you,

No,

I have no one to blame;

My actions are my own.

My thoughts a song

Of longing and of

The memoirs of

My soul:

Past,

Present, and

Future.

My body a painting

Of beauty and

Anguish, except,

They are

One.

What does it mean to trust,

If I cannot trust

Myself?

Ribbons of light

Dance in cadence.

Your aura is becoming

And I am unwinding.

My mind saunters in awe

Of your energy.

Your soul is resonating

And I am unraveling.

Speak to me

The words of yore.

Sing to me

The words of eventual.

Ribbons of light

Dance in cadence.

Your spirit is commanding

And I am elated.

Tangled in your arms;

I've never felt so free.

Your smile encumbers

My logic, as you scan

The guise of my being.

Can you see into my soul?

Into the depths of my

Consciousness;

Peeling away the layers

Of fear, and doubt;

To the axiom of myself.

May the twilight of the evening

Erode sensibility;

Surrendering to one another;

Encompassing the spirit.

Why do you cower from me?

Like a child;

I am the child.

I remember cowering from you

In the closet

Hoping, Praying

That I would not get consumed

In your tornado of chaos.

Can't you see how much this hurts me?

No.

You can only see your pain,

Right in front of you,

As you hoist the blankets

Over your head;

To cover your face,

To cover your shame.

What did I do to you?

I held my ground,

Because I am an adult now.

I stand for what is right and just

For those who do not have a voice

Or feel as though they have no choice.

I wish I could be there for you,

But you refuse, any and all aid.

Why don't you love me?

Ever since I can remember,

You have reacted this way to me,

Making me feel less than,

Causing me to doubt myself

Putting my fears on a shelf

Just out of reach from my outstretched hand.

Summoning the courage, I grasp at the gamut.

Why do I care?

I should be used to it by now,

But I yearn for your love and acceptance

Not just with you, but with Everyone.

Now this is my repentance:

I do not Need you,

I Need to love myself; to do better for myself.

But I will always love you, mother.

Her:

No heartbeat.

How could I let this happen?

How could I let my baby die?

Why was I not enough to sustain them?

Everyone has told me that it wasn't my fault,

Then why do I feel so torn apart?

Him:

No heartbeat.

I'm never going to teach them how to play catch,

Not going to be able to tell my 'dad jokes,'

Look at Her,

What do I say?

What can I do?

Them: I love you.

Two perspectives, one tragedy.