What do you do when your “Divorced Boyfriend” really isn’t divorced at all? It’s not even a matter of divorcED versus divorcING but separated. A whole other ballpark. It’s not a lie exactly, but an omission of the truth. Apparently the marriage was just so long over that it’s considered divorced by all sides, and their families... but technically, I’m still sleeping with a married man. Nice work Amanda. Even when I go legitimate, I’m not. I seem to be stuck in this pattern that I can’t really break free from. I feel stupid. I’m I’ve got a whole bunch of new questions in my head: What does his family think, with me parading around and spending nights at his apartment? Why didn’t he trust me enough to tell me? He says he loves me, but never bothered to share this little tidbit. And if it’s been over for the year, why hasn’t his “ex” wife filed? I already don’t feel comfortable with their level of friendship, now I can’t help but trust it even less.

He says he was stupid and didn’t say anything because he was scared to lose me. What else could he be hiding from me?

Get Home – Sarah Slean

you can stay the night
you can look me in the eye
you fake your way to the finish line
but, don’t dare profess to love me
when you’re lying to another
that’s not love that’s just wishing
wish and love, are not the same thing, yeah

get home, get home
take a look at her
you know, you know
that you love her

Mr. Masquerade
you’re getting good at this charade
go on fool yourself with talk of poetry
but, don’t you dare pretend you’re sorry
to me you’re just a tourist
you've got to stand next to the real one
because you know you’ll never be one

get home, get home
nothing more to say
you know, you know
that you'll never change
o, you'll never change
and I don't play the game
with liars and the cowards
liars and cowards
liars and cowards
like you

get home, get home
nothing more to say
you know, you know
that you’ll never change
o, You’ll never change
I don’t play the game
with liars and cowards
liars and the cowards
with the liars and cowards
like you
liars and cowards
liars and cowards
liars and cowards
like you

I had this dream the other night – Friday night, er...Saturday morning rather. Essentially there were these two buckets: one of sand and one of water. In the dream, for some reason, they were there to dip my grandmother’s feet in. Her feet were already all sandy, so the water was to wash away the said sand. And for some reason it was explained that the water was for growing things.

Odd enough, but the point is what it means... Sand means to be wary of someone exploiting you. And the clean water is coming happiness. And I finally put it together when I was telling my boyfriend about it (he’s new to the whole dream studying thing, but it’s already helping with his nightmares.)- Since the feet were already crusted with sand, and the water was there to cleanse and “grow” I’m washing away the pain of having been used and exploited, and am becoming happy. I’m opening up to the idea and possibility of being happy. Happy without the bullshit (not that life has stopped handing me bullshit...)

A,

You look so happy – and I honestly am glad. I’ve always had love for you, and I haven’t stopped caring about you so it’s good to see that you can be happy. Part of me wishes that I could have made you happy like that, but I accept my failing. I just want you to be as happy as I was when I was with you.

I’m good. Better now. And happy. Not the same way I was with you, but I’m also not that miserable ether. I wish you weren’t such a coward and that we were still talking. I miss you – the person, not the penis. And I’d really like to talk to you about the good things, like my boyfriend. There never seemed to be enough good news for us to talk about.

And this isn’t a matter of me letting you go – you were never mine to hold on to – but you hurt me. No matter if you said you didn’t want to, you really did. I’m still trying to relearn how to trust and depend on someone. You were there and listened through so much from grandma to panicking over Karen. You were such a strong support. Maybe I’m sorry I leaned so heavily. And maybe I’m sorry I never told you how much I appreciated it. I have a few regrets, but I don’t think it would have changed anything.

I don’t want you back. That much I want to have clear. If it didn’t work out those four times we gravitated back to each other, I guess it never would have (even if I thought it could have.). And I don’t think I am exactly what you need in the long run. I would have given you too much freedom. And maybe the life differences were too much. I don’t know. And it seems I never will.

I’m just glad you’ve found someone that does make you happy. I think you deserve to be happy.

And the cake that matches it: It's a purple carrot cake. Oh man... I'm a sap.

I’m the insecure type of person who fears that her mother will stop loving her (after all, father did) so for the life of me I can’t understand why I ever assumed that A would have. But that’s neither here nor there, last night someone else said he was in love with me – and not the boyfriend, which would just make a little more sense I suppose – but AR. It’s not that I hear that a lot, (I’m still unbelieving when D, the boyfriend, says he likes me and will keep me. After all A said that too.)but I have heard it before. AR is only different: I’ve been to bed with him, he’s the first man I ever woke up next to. Not used to being cherished after – just disposed of. And I do care about him, and he will forever mean something to me (my value of “firsts” is a little skewed – when your virginity goes to a thief in the night smaller things end up meaning more. And too many of those things went to A anyway...) I trusted AR to such a scary degree. I believed that he wouldn’t leave in the middle of the night and I let him have me defenceless. Love was just never  a thought.  A still had complete residence of my heart (the fucker still has a strangled hold too) and in the mean time, I’ve broken AR heart be seeing D. Turns out I hurt a few people. When the little girl lost doesn’t have faith that anyone could love her or care for her like that...

If I get too attached to D, he’s just going to leave. This had been clearly illustrated right back to my father. But most recently with A. I tried to keep him at arm’s length, even stopped seeing him twice in that year span so I could maintain some distance and maybe keep myself safe, but he came back. And finally, I gave in; I told him, I let myself love him – and what did he do? He left. Albeit, after that brief taste of what it’s like to be normal and have someone return my affection.But he left. He went running in some other direction. Maybe I just have a shelf life, and my appeal expired. 

Dear  </a></b></a></div>,
I don't really know how to tell you this, but Our horoscope doesn't match.
I think I realized it when I quoted Santa in your closet and I saw you sit at my John F. Kennedy-statue.
I'm sure you're scarred enough to understand that your Honda sucks.
I'm returning the couch cushions to you, but I'll keep your photo as a memory.
You should also know that I always will remember cocaine abuse.

Greetings to your frog Leonard,
sweety167 

( Say What? )

The fact remains, I still miss A. There’s a void that he left that still hurts with phantom pains. A gap in my life, my heart, wherever you want to claim it. But the thing is, I really don’t want him back now. I wouldn’t want to be greeted by a “Hey Babe, I’m sorry" message, because I don’t want him now. I want what was then. I want what was back in May. That then and there, and when it worked and felt right.

This could all be fear since D started telling me how much he likes me. How he calls me his and thanks me for coming over. All those things that I’ve experienced before. Almost in the same language too.

I’ve even been asking about Mallen. I needed to know how he was doing. Apparently well, and that relieved me in some way. Even if they could never love me, I want them to be happy and well.

Were you bad for me then,
or worse now?
A chased down fantasy
of the plainest type.
The simplest touch
from its broken and complicated source.
Those twisted tales
from an unwritten tome,
warnings gone unseen, unabided
by the unbridled.
Blinded heart
exposed at the sleeve
a token, a trinket
at once too shiny to collect,
but drawn to caress, touch, taint.
Fingerprint smudged,
the smeared reflection -
in your own image shattered.
Only sought out solace,
in the crook of your arms and curved mouth;
thought to be shelter,
not the storm.
Rather found a false prophet
of true lies – mix truths
like beauty for the eyes who behold.

Once, you were good for me,
better then.
A tangible reality,
once within my grasp.
A moment’s taste,
with a whiskey soured burn.
In a moment of weakness
clung to, devoured.
An easy choice, yes,
not foolishly pursued;
never forever, just the time.
Felt real in the moment,
now faded edges blur
in hot echoed breath with callused fingertips.
The marks all linger,
the lesson remains.
Uncovered soft malleable flesh,
the still beating heart, stalled, restarted.
Awakened deep desired worth,
your teachings of an honoured student:
sum of parts, and parts of some.
Everything has its ugly splendour,
discoloured bruises fade.
Blinded eyes open
to the beatified mess. 

08/05/09