her possible mouth (suchcartography) wrote,
her possible mouth
suchcartography

  • Mood:

I think it's time.

I have now been single a month. As you read this, know that as I typed that first sentence, I did so and then let the words just sit on the page for a few moments.

I thought, honestly, that the relationship I've just been aborted from was going to be IT. That there was no trouble that we, as a team, as partners, couldn't conquer; nothing that we, as a team, as partners, couldn't do.

I was wrong. I'll say that again: I. Was. Wrong.

Usually, I consider myself a decent judge of character. I feel deceived, and cheated. I'm struggling to see through the madness - madness I was previously patient enough to wait out - to see the light of day on the other side. It feels like defeat. It feels like I've given up. But I'm not the one who gave up. I stayed. I'm the one who sat right here and hoped and prayed and begged for things to be different. They just aren't. They never will be.

A bit from the draft I'm working on:
"Now I think of you and I’m nothing but sick. Waves of nausea twist my stomach into unsolvable knots and I can do nothing but hang my head in my hands and hope something subsides – be it the heartache or the trembling feeling my heart produces that tells me you’re still there. Anything to end this suffering. Anything."

I'm thinking now about the swings. Didn't that seem like something out of a movie? Like we were being filmed and that an audience somewhere would watch and wish they had what we did? I'm not sure why that moment just came to me. But it did.

Something inside of me wants you to tell me that I'm wrong, you know. Something inside of me wants to hear you say, "Just wait for me, I'll be right back. There's just something I have to do", but I know you would never tell me that. You're gone now. I've lost you. I've lost everything for your happiness and you never even cared about mine. That hurts. I want to feel your hands on my face and have you sleep on my shoulder but where does that lead? More ambiguity, more deception. I wish we could walk, hand in hand, back to those swings and laugh and love like we used to.

I would forgive you in a heartbeat, if I knew you were sorry. I'd put our home back together in an instant, if I knew there was love enough between those walls for the two of us. I'd continue to dream about houses and children and lives together, if I could say soundly that you loved me and that satisfied you.

But it doesn't. Yet again, I am just not enough.


The lamp is burning low upon my table top
The snow is softly falling
The air is still within the silence of my room
I hear your voice softly calling
If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
On this winter's night with you

The smoke is rising in the shadows overhead
My glass is almost empty
I read again between the lines upon the page,
The words of love you sent me
If I could know within my heart that you were lonely, too
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
Upon this winter night with you

The fire is dying; my lamp is growing dim.
The shades of night are lifting.
The morning light steals across my windowpane,
Where webs of snow are drifting
If I could only have you near, to breathe a sigh or two
I would be happy just to hold the hands I love,
And to be once again with with you...
To be once again with with you...
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