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You wanted to get me into cookies again.
Do you remember when we were children, and the only thing you ever wanted from my house was the box of vanilla wafers? I remember watching you fight the dog for the crumbs on the floor. Remember seeing my mother walk in on us, me in the chair, peering down at you as you licked your fingers and dabbed up the little crumbles.
I remember she wasn’t happy with me for egging you on, and I remember you wanted to start up the whole cookies thing again this summer –
But I didn’t tell you I’m moving on.
I’m an ice cream sandwich kind of gal now.

Filtering through the papers and various household items of the relationship she formerly referred to as her marriage, she threw one item, one paper, after another in the garbage. Toss…throw…take another sip from her bottle of Raspberry Smirnoff…the tears rolling down her face…then, she lost it. Scattering the papers on the floor, she screamed at the ceiling, angry…upset…hurt…the tears poured down her face as she sank into the floor, shaking with sobs—a puddle of a woman in shambles. After what seemed like hours, she picked her limp, shattered body up off the floor. It was time to simplify. It was time to start over.

This isn’t about abandonment or leaving me behind.
This is not about the five stars peeled down to three.
This isn’t even about the way you don’t look at me in the mornings anymore.
It’s about the moments when you look through me because I’ve gone so easy in your eyes, so soft, so preciously invisible that you can’t possibly find me to pin the blue ribbon to my chest; the I choose you gets frozen in your throat because you can’t see me, can’t rate me your best, and then I’m gone, like the rest of your breath, expelled from a chest with no heart left over for me.

i’m going down to the metro today, to see what there is to see. i’ll be joining colleges and friends. I’ll be presenting, so please stick around, and I’ll be dancing and following a tour, the last one trailing behind. Yes! that’s where you’ll see me, wandering in the pack, and singled out on stage. come see.

this isn’t what i wanted to feel like
this isnt what i had in mind when i said yes
i wanted to have safety and caring
not this control
this exertion over me
this bit of me ripped out and kept caged
even though you say its for my own good
my own safety
even though you swear youre not trying to hurt me
that this is just another aspect of love
im beginning to squish into odd shapes
and im falling apart
and maybe this is the failing
the failure for faith in others

I keep thinking that Kiera might not appreciate chocolate – because that was my first thought, that we’d get a bunch of Godiva and then sit together and chillax as we munched pizza and such. But there’s this whole gluten free thing, and apparently chocolate has wheat in it. So she’d get sick. And so instead I went to the second K in my life, (because you can always have too much chocolate and I’m approaching my limit) and used it as a bribe for Kiersten to keep her from being mad at me for too long.