Marriage is NOT
Marriage is NOT two people joined into one. Marriage is always two people who are joined into a life of compromise. When a couple gets married, the expectation is that they will live to love and support each other, despite all earthly influence.
Truth is work, home, kids, even friends bang the gong every time things are going wrong!
Marriage is NOT just love or sex, but a palette of passions is what does marriage best. Trying to fulfill the other with surprise in an open bed begs satisfaction live… instead of one of the two choosing another person to picture in their head!
Truth is no person begins a marriage by telling their spouse their deepest naughty fantasy on how they would love the other to give it to them. The only way is to say what makes you burst with tingles and makes your bells jingle!
Holding up each other up to show the brightness of the stars is what makes a marriage work, daily in its chores, in order to keep from being an island with a short shore anchored in jade for all the bad plays you made.
Crying For Food
I woke up this morning
a failure again
dishes stacked high
in the sink
animals all crying for food
all over the floor,
then the family comes.
Sometimes when I’m sick
my tone reflects
I FEEL LIKE SHIT!
So, I close myself up
quiet as a mouse
to take care of my house.
Too bad I’m the one
dirt drives insane
or I’d get help cleaning
the home I sometimes love.
Tug of War
Marriage can be like tug of war for control of the centered red flag. Each spouse tied secure at the end of a thick rope that leaves splinters when grabbed taut.
One side always maintains strength or size, yelling taunts of deconstruction with dogs barking rabid behind.
Yanked forward, yet firm in the muck of empathy, the losing side tries not to cry, but works harder to show the superhero born because the fight is on.
If only it was a fun game! If only the red flag represented compromise! If only there was cheering for both sides to win!
If only the goal was to go back to when, no matter what, it was love that would announce the game to begin!!!!
The Blooming Tree
Don’t fault me. I grew up brow-beaten as I developed into the woman I am today. Nothing can take that past away. With no self-esteem to conquer my fears of the judgement others are ready to relay everywhere I go each day, I simply must stay.
Trapped in an earthly hell, I lay truth upon my table like breakfast, each plate delicately placed to display my dis-grace.
I am the eggs beaten to mush.
I am the bacon burned on both sides.
I am potatoes cut and fried.
I am the red sauce covering my top.
All waiting for HIM to digest me as slop
and make me feel like shit again,
reminding me that it will never end.
I find myself in this Hell controlled by another who sometimes treats me like a lover. But is it love or is it hate that makes me stay? Maybe I’ll find the strength to escape my nightmarish dream wake. However, my friends, that is not today.
I will myself to sip my coffee and write, cleaning the mess, for I know time will ring soon for me to bloom into a strong tree that no one can cut down. It will be then that I will finally leave.
Sucks My Core
Dive deep enough to caress my soul!
Experience what makes me lose control.
I’ve no ulterior motive, no game playing;
I want you to know why I turn hot or cold.
Learning me takes years of training!
Therefore, how can I make you want me more?
By giving you what sucks me dry in my core.
The fear, the panic
I can’t stop
the roll, the fall
I can’t suspend
the time, the end
I can’t beat
the fear, the panic
I’m not enough
to do, to be
I only play
the wife, the mother
I can’t breathe
the beat, the heat
I won’t stop
the wanting, the trying
NOTHING CAN STOP ME!
Why Do You Stay?
A freshly white Denver morning shined bright awakening a bustle in my house.
“Pallas, in the shower, please! Snow’s gonna slow us, so all the earlier we need to leave.”
“But I have homework left! Can’t I shower tonight?”
“No! My love, go wash the smelly dirt off right…” I laugh as she slams the bathroom door tight.
Her backpack’s in the van. I’ll grab it while I can.
Full speed I race my wheelchair down the garage ramp, clicking the van’s ramp remote with one hand…I grab one wheel and spin in a circle, stopping my flight just before slamming my chair into the car door.
I push down on my wheels, push up the van ramp, grab the backpack, put it on my lap, and again descend an awkward angled ramp, but a caster wheel gets stuck…
CRASH: The sudden stop half way down halted my body to the garage’s cement ground, and for the first time, my hands were nowhere to be found so my head too went down with a pound!
I must have yelled, for I could hear the sound of feet coming towards me. Like Superman called into action, his hands immediately reach to grab my crumpled body, arms outstretched he cradles me.
“WHY!” I scream at him. “Why do you stay with me? Why don’t you just divorce me and find a NORMAL wife, someone easy?”
“Because I love you.” He states with a sweet smile.
“That’s not a good enough reason! Love is addiction! I’m your affliction!”
The Superman becomes small, “I can’t imagine being with anyone but you, I don’t care how many times you fall! Now let’s have breakfast beautiful…”
Years of learning the language of your lover is “I am more important, but I’ll do for you, if you’ll do more for me.” Not too cynical if learning is occurring, right?
Like a mother, I want to keep my home void of all possible structural failure. Yet, the bond that seals out the flood rains is porous, the wood studs dilapidated.
Weakness in one lover becomes strength in the spouse! How is that for a child’s house? How can I create a home without so many holes if marriage just kills my soul?
This Bell’s Been Wrung
To You Husband and your ultimatum, I’m done! I’m done! I’m done! This Bell’s Been Wrung! I’ve lived my life in my head and retreating back there is better than being dead! So I guess if you’ve enjoyed the last eight years at all, forgive me when I state now: I’m done! I’m done! I’m done! This Bell’s Been Ringing Wrong All Along!!!
“Thank you, Dear Wife”
Thank you for seeing how unhappy I am. Thank you for believing and solidifying my dreams. Thanks for raising an independent, wise child so that we can learn how to live apart from you together. Thank you, wife, for not making me altogether resent you.
You are the love of my life, my wife, so get yourself right. Maybe then we can have a marriage without strife in your eyes.
He Cried “Bye”
“I’m sorry.” He stated swaying above me in my wheeled chair. Tears in his eyes, he got on one knee, finally my size, and hugged me.
“I’m sorry for doing this to you.” His tears felt like sweat on my neck.
“You’re going to start a new life, and it’ll be good!” I feigned breathy in his ear. “I’m going to be fine. This is your chance to go home and shine,” a tear finally falling from my eye.
“I’ll miss you.”
“I know.” And then I kissed him. He stood tall, then walked out my door.
As the yellow truck filled with all of my husband’s, my daughter’s, and my dog’s stuff pulls out of my driveway, I wonder what but smoking and drinking I have to do with the rest of my days.
Silver Duct Tape stretches over my skin from cheekbone to cheekbone and mouth to chin with a thick black X over the O where my mouth should have been; my nose burns with the exhaust I breath as you leave, lungs left to absorb the toxic air when finally alone, just me and the self hidden in my pancreas, screeching to speak and live!