resigned

I dropped my heart today. It spilled on the doormat as I walked in. It rubbed off on you when we hugged. There’s a smudge on your dining room table where I plopped my purse. Smears of it are in the pages of the paddling book I pretended to read.

You might find parts of my heart dribbled on the ratty tennis ball I threw with your puppy. I’m sure your kitten has bits of it in her paws from crawling up my chest. And curled in her teeth and whiskers from wrapping herself in my hair.

It spilled on the floor as I started to weep. It dribbled over my hand as I tried to muffle my growing sobs.

It bounced off your walls as I begged for answers. It slid down the floor as it met silence.

It finally fell in a thousand tiny bits as my decision was forced on me. Final. I raised my hand and whispered my decision. My heart flowed out of my mouth. It splashed on my feet and to the floor.

I gathered the tiny shards left over and clutched them to my chest. I gathered my flip flops and hugged them to me, protecting my few and fragile bits.

I stumbled over feet and between furniture. Flailing for safety. Smearing my heart on your couch and coffee table.

I saw the pain in your eyes. Red. Full. You asked if I was sure. I murmured something like thank you and “I’m done.”

Pieces slipped out of my arms and dropped back to the table. I rustled through my bag as conversations continued.

You reached for me as I left. A pat on the back? A slipped grab of my arm. I went back to you and we embraced. My heart smeared on your shoulder and down your chest.

I walked. Three or five steps. Smearing my heart across your floor, on the doorknob, hearing the murmur of conversation continue and knowing no one was chasing after me to bring me back; to convince me otherwise.

The screen door slipped closed behind me. My heart was trapped between the door and my chest.

I pulled it along behind me, convinced i wouldn’t go one step back and it would eventually return to where it belonged. I turned and tugged it gently toward me. It thudded softly and the screen door scraped it as it closed fully. I flung it dirty and bruised through the air and over my shoulder.

It hurt to breathe with my shards of heart scattered recently. Fully and completely. Without question. Painfully. But I know no other way.

I left pieces of my heart with you. And I trust you with them.

I know you will cherish and protect these bits of my heart. I leave them with you knowing I’ll see you soon and the pieces will be bigger, fuller, brighter from having been with you.

I see these tiny pieces going home with you. Tucked away in a pocket with tear stained tissues, smeared on your hands and clothes as you comforted me and embraced me.

I know some of you do not understand how love and commitment work. I leave the pieces for you to examine and learn from. Dissect them. Put them under a microscope. Leave them on a shelf to gather dust. Someone will see them and learn. And know.

Pieces of my shattered heart have found their way home with you, smeared on the bottom of your shoes. Wrapped in whispered conversations.

You’ll wonder where some thoughts or decisions might come from; they won’t be something you would have normally thought of.

Pieces of my shattered heart were smeared on your own and took root.

You’ll have learned to love. And it will have been my shattered fault.

fierce

i see you in my dreams.  your face, i hear your words, syrupy and thick.

i argue with you.  you’re wrong.

you smirk.  in that way.  your words curve around the room.  their zombie faces register no feelings.

we’re in the garage where i told everyone i was leaving.

i stand firm, tall.  one foot in front of the other, as though i will pounce; or shoulder length apart.  i feel my feet on the ground.  rooted.  my legs sometimes burn with anger.

my hands are sometimes hardened into fists.  sometimes they’re palms open, facing you, pushing your energy back.  not allowing you.

you are not allowed.

in every dream you’re telling me i’m wrong wrong wrong.

in every dream, i know i’m right.  i tell you  no.  firmly.

i wake up out of breath.  my body still tense from the stand off.  sometimes my eyes are wet from angry tears.

i don’t wake up angry at you.  i wake up proud of myself.  sometimes i whisper (voice raspy from sleep)

…fuck you.

and i smile in the dark.

strange

i didn’t start missing you until i saw the moon this evening, wrapped in clouds.  maybe because i knew you were somewhere up there, on your way to the other side of the planet?

i mean, this isn’t really missing someone, is it?  it lasted for five minutes, the whole thing really.  it was your words, your laughs on the phone.  your vulnerability, that peek behind the clouds you gave me.

i’ll tuck it away with my other most favorite fleeting moments.  eyes and words and tangled hands.

franken

country’s  eyes, like an olympic pool.  the home we created together.  full of friends and shenanigans.

bruiser’s shoulders and chest…my god, he knew how to wear a shirt.  his consideration when parking my car, opening doors, and making a lunch for me.  his sense of humor.  his wild abandon and physicality.  his generosity and manners.  haha. bruiser.

speedy’s patience while asking for directions, and while explaining stick shift, even though i already knew it.

your chill-ness.  your peace.  your deep chuckle.  your responsibility and drive.  your hands, your arms, your  perfect body.  the way our arms and legs always found each other in the dark and tangled perfectly in sleep.  the way you just WERE.  not trying to be anything else.  my head on your bicep.  your sense of far flung adventure.  your hands.  big and meaty.  your stash of gear.  your legs.  your hobbies.  your height.  our climbing, boulders, camping adventures.  your surprising depth.

you, the surprise.  the glimpse of what could have maybe been if we hadn’t been thrown to other planets.

and you, your heart.  your willingness for adventures, bike paths, mountain and waterfall hikes, snow adventures.  the way you watched out for me, drove safely, laughed.  the way you kissed me, perfectly.  when you finally said you hated me.  and it felt so good to say i hated you back.  out loud.  we both knew the opposite was true.  we whispered it to each other in the dark, wrapped around each other, when we were sure the other was asleep.

of love

I marvel at the leaves, the flowers blooming and the buds springing. I run my hands over thick tree trunks and roots. The sun warms my face. My feet grasp the soil as I meander down paths.

This is mine. I stand in the middle of this expanse; stand under the canopy of branches.  Vines of flowers twist and bloom, scents bursting.

I’m protected. I’m safe. I’m full of love.  I’m all of a sudden here. In this garden of people…relationships, family of friends I’ve tended to for years and years.

I stand here, in the middle of all of this forest garden of love. And it’s most treasured.  I’m protective and inviting, but most of all protective.

A brook meanders through it, nourishing it, encouraging it.

If I could draw a picture for you, of all the relationships of my heart, it would be this garden forest. Each root and tree trunk and bud and vine and blossom…each one of them, are made up of memories.  laughs, tears, moments in the sun, whispers, accomplishments, hugs.  sunsets, sunrises.  frustrations and good times.  they’re made up of strengths and bonds.

of love.