when you come home and hold me, my anger and rage is soothed, and i am not a mad woman, but i am your happy wife.
i have a feeling that in the next fifty women you undress, all you will be able to see is that they are not, and could never be me.
you watch as the tall, mighty flame that i once was drowns in your cruel, unforgiving flood. and you enjoy watching all my glory turn to nothing but blackened scars.
i remember it well
your hand was on my hip
as you stood
behind me
talking to your friends
and they all stared at me
because we weren’t even
together
but your hand was splayed on my hip
and your head was on my shoulder
and you told me
“you feel like home”
no one has ever told me how similar grief is to falling in love. a numbness so absolute i can’t tell if i’m at the highest high or the lowest low.
two years ago i worshipped the man i thought you were. thank god i am off my knees now.
i wish that when i saw you for the first time, i would’ve run as fast as i could.
i love my found family with every fiber of my being. they know the hues and textures of my soul, just as i know their’s.
someone asked me today what made me feel the most alive. and through tears i told them it was you.