Part of the reason I feel so driven right now is because I am consciously exiting a rough patch. I had no idea I could endure emotional turmoil for so long. Well, actually that's not true. I was seriously tortured for 4 years in the most unpleasant relationship I've ever been in. That relationship was like trying to moisturize with a pile of chalk dust (my own personal hell).
There's a poem I wrote recently...it's about a relationship that suffers from bad timing (a true epidemic). It is in fact an amalgamation of several different people I've loved over the years. I pulled honest material from different places because the reality is, all failed relationships that meant something, end up having the same result - a sense of loss. The hurt all feels the same. Now, of course the length of time one feels the hurt may vary.
The good news about being hurt is the creativity that can spring directly out of that giant pile of emotional shit. I feel so good when I'm pushed to create something good out of something "bad." At the risk of sounding like an overly optimistic asshole (I could feel differently at some point tomorrow...or in an hour), I'm happy to feel pain so that I can be moved to do something worth while. Why must I wait to be in so much pain before I'll DO SOMETHING?! FU FU FU.
Okay, here's the poem:
A Letter to a Broken Heart
You said to me
“If we all held
flowers in
the pocket of
our breast,
our flowers
would be the same:
purple and green
carnations,
reflecting the
way
we see the
world.”
I responded
honestly
and said, “I
don’t care
for carnation
flowers.
They’re cheap, the
petals
unevenly cut – too
imperfect
for a love like
ours.”
You laughed
because you
know my mother
and I don’t speak
and I’m unable to hold my heart
and I’m unable to hold my heart
in one piece – a
sieve
that discards
the good.
So you did the
moonwalk and
we were
embarrassed
because we
kissed
to Springsteen’s
I’m On Fire.
Then you said,
No matter what
happens,
I hope we
continue to
feel this glow, and
not lose sight
of each other’s
brilliance (and
our own).”
I thought this
meant you
loved me, that
you would
(carry me in your heart),
the way Cummings
carried his
darling’s heart
in his.
The last night
we shared a smoke,
our last smoke
because it
was time to
quit,
you told me
about her apologies
how sorry she
was, how sorry you are.
I held you
anyway because
you weren’t just
my love,
but you were
also my dear friend.
I know you feel
the way I feel,
the only difference
is
I do (carry your heart in mine)
and it’s too
heavy,
so heavy my
heart
it breaks.
-S