All The Beautiful Things

The sound of the robins in the trees.

The slant of early evening sun bathing the tall grass along Fulton Ave, park side.

The sound of you voice in my ear.

I love you.

Missing you all over again.

And again.

And again.

I’m not supposed to be holding a torch.

And I am.

And that’s ok.

It’s all ok.

The glory of you, the poetry in my blood, the fresh tattoo that I kissed with my lips on the inside of your arm.

I can feel the fever still on my mouth.

You were here.

Then gone.

The time went so fast.

In your arms again at last.

The longest 88 days of my life.

I suppose there are still long days ahead.

The long days of summer.

The long moments of wistful memories that enfold me.

How you look etched into my mind.

“You have my heart, be careful with it,” you said with tears in your throat.

So careful.

Baby.

So careful.

I wrote you a card the day before yesterday.

I hope you still check your mailbox once in a while for missives from me.

I don’t know how many to send.

I want to flood you with love letters.

You are my love letter.

I hope I am your love song.

I don’t know when I will see you again.

I know I will see you again.

I know the moon will keep you.

I know God will carry you.

I know you will be ok.

And one day you will be back and the window will be open.

You promised I would be the first person you would call.

I am holding you to that.

Don’t be too long my love.

My bones ache for you.

Boy turns to girl and says, “I love you so”

Boy turns to girl and says, “I love you so”

Boy turns to girl and says, “I love you so”

I love you too.

So much.

You laugh, you eyes, the song of you on my lips.

Gone once again for you.

Not caring who knows.

Fine with however it goes.

As long as you get your happiness my love.

Please.

Do.

Get happy.

I have never known anyone who deserves it more than you.

Love.

That is.

All the love in the world for you.

To the moon and back.

1,000 times infinity plus 2.

I adore you.

I love you.

Come for me my love.

Please do.

I wait with bated breath.

I always have.

I always will.

One Day of Freedom

It’s a full blue moon tonight.

A full flower moon.

It is the eve of your birthday and I can’t stop thinking about you.

I tried and then I just stopped trying.

It’s ok.

It’s been what, 3 months, of course I still think about you.

Even though I went on a few dates last week.

And I have to say, it felt really nice to be out in public on a date, of course I wanted to be on a date with you in public, but I know how that story goes.

He was nice enough.

But.

No chemistry.

Sad.

He thought we had gang busters chemistry.

I did not.

I know what chemistry is.

Boy howdy do I know.

I went on three dates to give him a chance and every single one just made me think more and more about you.

Damn it.

I love you monkey.

And I’m bummed that I won’t get to see you on your birthday tomorrow, to sing you happy birthday, to make your birthday cake.

I did love cooking for you.

Le sigh.

I’ll be ok.

I’m not crying.

Although I did rail at God one night, I think after the third date with the guy.

Because on paper he had a lot going on.

But when you kiss like a dead duck.

Ugh.

I wanted your kisses so damn bad.

I felt crazy.

I was so fucking angry.

I want a committed monogamous relationship and I want chemistry.

Is that so much to ask for?

I really think it’s possible.

Obviously I didn’t have the committed monogamous bit with you.

Double sigh.

And I haven’t had chemistry, EVER, like I had with you.

I want both.

Fact is.

I just want you.

I want you to fucking get your god damn act together and get a divorce and come for me.

FUCK.

And.

Done venting.

I don’t have it in me to be angry or sad.

I just want to wish you a happiest birthday where ever you are and hopefully you’ll get what you want and I pray all the time for God to take care of you.

And I knew it was going to rain tonight and the clouds would cover the full flower blue moon and I wouldn’t be able to see it, so last night, in my bunny slippers, I went outside and talked to the moon like I was talking to you.

I hope you got the message.

I’ll let myself be a little sad and a little maudlin.

I know that anniversaries are hard.

Fuck.

The two year anniversary of our first kiss had me crying myself to sleep.

Or your sobriety anniversary.

Walked around with a 7 year chip and a card in my wallet until my person was like, “hand it over.”

Just so you know.

I had planned on giving it to you but it was “suggested” heavily that I put it in my God box.

So that’s where it’s at, although, it’s yours if you ever want to make a move for it.

But there’s something about it being your birthday tomorrow and how it’s also wrapped up around my graduation party last year and getting my Master’s Degree and the party you threw me at the beach.

And I just finished my first year of my PhD program and I felt like we should have been celebrating.

I feel like we should be celebrating all the time.

Except that I’m not supposed to have contact with you.

I off and on block you on Facebook because I will find myself looking at your page.

Not that you ever post anything to it.

And I haven’t been a perfect princess.

I have looked at your LinkedIn profile, but then I unconnected us since that’s flirting with all sorts of danger.

God.

I wanted you to reach out to me tonight.

I wanted it so freaking bad.

Still do.

But.

I want it my way.

Not the way it was and you couldn’t give that to me.

I wish you could have.

If wishes were horses.

Beggars would ride.

I still debate getting one more tattoo with you in mind, a theme, I have three already dedicated to you.

But.

I can’t decide.

The little girl wishing for the moon card that I gave you.

Or two crows with a heart between the two beaks.

Or.

That one tiger dragon graffiti mural wall in Chinatown, the one I took a photo of you in front of.

Oh baby.

I’m not in tears.

And I want to recognize that.

I feel sad but it’s not torture and the no contact I’m sure has helped.

But man.

I still want to connect with you.

To have contact with you.

Those three stupid dates just made it so clear how much I love you.

Oh.

There.

Now the tears.

Ok.

No more of that.

Big breath and onto the point of the title of the blog.

One day of freedom.

Or relative freedom.

Tomorrow.

Because after tomorrow, it’s Monday and I have to start studying for my Law & Ethics exam and that takes about a month of study.

So.

Tomorrow is it.

I don’t have a lot of obligations, typical stuff, cooking, laundry, a lady bug, but nothing in the evening since my person is out of town and I don’t have any homework.

HOLY SHIT.

I don’t have to do homework tomorrow.

I got all my papers turned in and all my projects done.

I made it!

I really made it through my first year of course work in a PhD program.

I am sort of amazed.

So tomorrow, who knows what I’ll do with that free time.

But I will have it.

I hazard I will think of you and I’m sure I’ll send you a happy birthday wish.

Maybe tonight before I go to bed, I will look towards where the full moon is and wish you a happy birthday.

Happy.

Happy.

Happy.

Birthday baby.

I still miss you.

 

The Full Monty

He’s married.

That’s the secret.

The big, finally done holding it secret.

I was involved with a married man.

Thus, why so little of my relationship was on my blog for the last two years.

Oh, if you were clever you might have figured out I was seeing someone but I was pretty discrete.

I am discrete.

I didn’t go burn down his house when we broke up.

I didn’t out him to the world or my community.

Oh.

I told a few friends that I needed to tell and I got super honest in a general way in other places that I had been having an affair.

“I had an affair with a married man and he wouldn’t leave his wife, so I broke up with him.”

It’s rather glib and it really is so little of what actually happened.

Love is what actually happened.

We fell in love.

I’m in it right now.

He’s really been on my mind.

Tomorrow would be the two year anniversary of us getting together.

The night he told me about his “modern marriage” and I thought, my God, you’re gorgeous and I’m open and not seeing anyone.

That kiss though.

Our first kiss, May 3rd, 2017, two years ago tomorrow.

Blew me apart.

I should have probably known right then and there it was going to be something.

Something for the books.

Magic.

Romance.

Everything.

He was everything.

Poetry.

So much poetry.

And we fell in love.

It wasn’t just the sexy.

In fact, both of us bemoaned it not being just sex on more than one occasion as it would have been easier to get out of it, easier to walk away.

But we fell in love.

Naively I thought that would be enough.

It wasn’t.

Extenuating circumstances that I will not divulge as they are not mine to share kept us from ever really being together.

But god damn.

We tried.

We tried so fucking hard.

We did everything we could to make it work.

In the end, though, I left him.

It wasn’t working.

I realize that in previous blogs I made it out to seem that he left me.

And that’s not true.

I left.

I couldn’t do it anymore.

I was miserable.

I had left once before and couldn’t live without him and so we spent a year trying to figure it out and make it work.

I really did think he was going to leave his wife.

I really held onto it for so long.

How could someone love me the way he said he loved me and not leave?

This still hurts.

Cue the tears streaming down my face.

I know why he didn’t and I still really thought he would.

Which is why I say he betrayed me, which is why I say he left.

He didn’t choose me.

And that’s his right to not do that.

But it felt like a betrayal.

It felt like he betrayed the love we had for each other.

Love that neither one of us had thought was possible or real or could exist.

The stuff of teenage lust and fairytales and gothic poetry and love songs.

That’s what got me today at work.

Sitting down to keep my charges company at dinner and the dad of the family played some music and a song came up.

A song I have never heard outside of the playlist I had made my ex many months ago.

A Peggy Lee song called “Sweet Happy Life.”

I thought I was going to lose it.

It wasn’t the Peggy Lee version, but it was the same song.

My wish for you, sweet happy life
May all the days of the year that you live be laughing days
With all my heart, sweet happy life
And may the night times that follow the day be dancing nights
Stars for your smile, moons for your hair
And someones wonderful love for your loving heart to share
My wish for you, sweet happy life
May all your sorrows be gone and your heart begin to sing
And if a wish can make it be
I wish you spend everyday of your happy life with me
Stars for your smile, moons for you hair
And someones wonderful love for your loving heart to share
My wish for you, sweet happy life
May all your sorrows be gone and your heart begin to sing
And if a wish can make it be
I wish you spend everyday of your happy life with me.

I got myself together and I did not lose it, I did not cry.

But tonight, driving home.

I did.

I did cry.

I’m crying now.

It still hurts.

And it was amazing.

Real, true, fucking head over heels love.

We had it.

I had never had it before.

I just get to have these feelings and let them go and be grateful that I have gotten to have an incredible experience without judgment or self-hatred.

It was what it was and it was love.

It still is love.

I still love him.

I will always love him.

I just won’t be with him.

Not while he’s married.

I can’t ever do that to myself again, no married men, no one still getting over an ex-wife, girlfriend, partner, no one who is not 100% free and clear to be with me in the light of day.

Tomorrow night will be the two years since that first kiss and I don’t regret any of it and I’m not mad at myself.

I love myself if anything a little bit harder and a little bit more.

I followed my heart and listened when it said it couldn’t do it anymore.

I left him.

So if I left you with the idea that it was anything other than my choice, that was not right.

It was my way of still avoiding the gigantic pink elephant in the room.

I had an affair with a married man and fell in love.

He wouldn’t leave his wife.

So I broke up with him.

The end.