Again…

The hardest part is
Seeing somebody you love
Signing for the same life
Same lies
Heading for the same shore
Same shame

Someone knowing your story
Knowing the pain
Knowing the mess
Still feeling her story is different
Still thinking her relationship is safe

Someone you know you can’t help
Someone willing to believe
She will make it
When you know it will break her

Parts of my story

Crédit Photo @mariekleber37

This morning Kim posted something on Facebook about her story, the story of her sister Kay, the story she kept telling, again and again, because it’s hers and because it’s much needed too.

I know some people would rather like me to stop telling MY story. And I’d like this too, to mark a full stop. And yet even if it’s past, it’s always there, in the air. Because I have a child and he has a father, somebody he doesn’t know that much but somebody I know is toxic for him, as he was for me.

And sometimes I feel down, I feel like it’s never ending, like the choice I made back in march 2009 is still haunting me and will always. Like we’ll never be really safe.

Sometimes I wish he’d die, just so we could be free, my son and I, not always wondering what’s the next blow to come, what kind of challenge we’ll have to face again.

I realized I can’t start a new book thinking I can erase him, draw a line accross his existance. I just have to deal with it.

Maybe it’s the hardest part. But yet one day my son will be old enough and strong enough to deal with this mess. Till then I’d like to spare him as much as I can.

I am feeling lonely. This story impacted many people in my life and I don’t want anymore chaos or insomnia for them. I don’t want their fears added to mine. So I keep quiet and I pray. And in the morning I feel strong again and I know that as long as I am alive I will never let him mess up with our lives again, I will protect us, whatever the price I must pay.

Past, nonsense and freedom

Crédit Photo @mariekleber37

Will I be able to let the past where it belongs?

At the beginning of the year, it came back in a rush. I did not want to but yet it knocked at my door and I let it in. Not fully but enough so it could mess up with me again.

Memories, fears, doubts.

Again.

The need to explain my choices and to prove something. The guilt. The pain. It’s crazy how some people can bring to light the best in you and some can only take you down in a second and make you feel useless and lame!

The past came back and I felt strong for a while and then the same old story kept on playing, I wanted to scream. I put on a mask, the one that says “I am ok, I can deal with it.”

Will I, one day?

Ok, I made a bad choice once. Do I have to pay for ever? Or will I be free at some stage of all this nonsense?

Maybe the key is to close the door and don’t try to be nice again. Why should I be?

The key IS to stop trying so hard. This past doesn’t deserve anything from me. And anyway it’s made of nothing. It’s harsh I know and I feel bad sometimes to think like this. Maybe I should stop feeling bad about this, as well!

In fact I am the only one free to show up and say “fuck you!” Once and forever!

Fake Smile and Empty Heart

You
Changing?
Your promises
Sound like hell
Burning your chances
For a different life

You
Messed up with mine
And you’d like me
To acknowledge a lie

You
Think you can buy
Love at first sight
Hands full of money
Your heart as dry
As a fake smile

You
Won’t messed up with his life
As long as I am alive

Writing Prompt #12

Engraved in my cells
This night
Like any other

In a whisper
I was gone
Like a ghost
I hurtled down the stairs

It was over
Shots of pain
Across my heart

I was never yours
You just thought
You could stole
Parts of my soul

In the street that night
The pieces of my life
Scattered everywhere

The chance to put them back together
And find myself again!

***

I know that nothing can change nor erase the violence of that special night. It’s there forever. It’s part of me as good memories are too. It was for so long a night I would recall with fear. The words, the scene, the threats.

It was tough and yet, thank God, it was, or I would have never left. I would have came back, despite the mess, despite the nonsense, despite me becoming a stranger to myself. And it would have been tragic!

This night gave me the chance to start anew. Sometimes the best is hidden in the most dangerous places.

This is my piece of poetry as part of Writing Prompt proposed by Mona.

Where I stand my ground

Credit@Pixabay

Find your truth inside

Making choices is kind of hard to me. I tend to come and go and change my mind many times a day when I need to take a decision or make a move. I find it even hard to chose between yoghurts at the supermarket, so…

I always wait – too long – for people’s approval. It may never come. Still it reassures me at times. But it keeps me dependant of what others are thinking, which come with their perception of a specific situation. That may not be mine at all.

There is one subject, thought, where I do stand my ground, despite what everybody else think and would rather do – if they’re me – they’re not, thank God!

This is about my son’s dad. For me it’s no relationship except what was stated in the divorce papers. I don’t care that he is his father – I think this is complete bullshit by the way, I mean a father is a man who cares about his child, and not about himself only.
Anyway. I am not tender with him. I will never be. I will never trust him anymore. Maybe it sounds harsh but I know him. And I know he is no good for his son. Never will be, except maybe if he realize one day (I doubt it!) the mess he’d done and take responsability for it.
I gave enough of my joy, faith, love, enough of my time, money, spirit for this guy.

I remember being angry in the past towards people who could not understand and kept telling me to be more gentle and accept that people may change.
But who can really understand this feeling of opression and being manipulated with each word said or written?
I am the one with the experience, the one with the remains of the past, the one who struggled and rebuilt my life day after day. I am the one with the knowledge of what I can give and what can’t be given – a second chance.

So I let people have their ideas on the subject. Mine is not to be challenged!

Men & Women friendship

He was my friend
Before I submit myself to a will
I couldn’t understand

Cultural ideas
Men and women don’t mix
They ought to go separate ways

To your husband
You must obey
His will become yours
Or you go ashtray

So he was my friend
And one day
I felt scared to even write
Him an email

I remained silent
No words to explain
A choice I wouldn’t
Challenge again

Being his friend
Was a crime
Cultural ideas
Made it bad

Talking in the street with someone
Showing the way
Or even smile
Forget to even be nice

Men and women don’t mix
Or you’ll have to suffer my wrath

Your husband
You don’t betray
Or you’re a slut
To my dismay

He was my friend
Then he was gone
I could only feel guilty
For not standing my grounds

We were only friends
No threat to his life
I let childhood sleep
Behind the car glass

Men and women don’t mix
Cultural beliefs
If you trigger the deal
Don’t cry
You deserve it

Your husband
Has every right

You broke the promise
Men and women don’t mix
Don’t even tell me otherwise

Or I will make you pay
The price