Bittersweet

Open your bitter, your sweet, 

I pry your heart open as I ease up your ankles, 

Beg me to stop, you don’t mean a word you say, 

Your thighs betray you, woman. 

Your breath is my beacon, 

I keep my eyes open, slide them over your hidden kisses,

Pupils so dark I’ll drown, 

I bite my lip to keep my heart down, 

Can’t risk spilling it over you, 

I want to drown before you swim in me. 

You reach down to pull me into a kiss, 

I bat your hands away, your trembling is delicious, 

Your anger palatable, 

There, where your pulse is strongest, 

The heart is jealous at a beat so strong.

You feel it, pulling me in, throbbing 

Where you crave me the most. 

I wonder if the beads of sweat tickle as they roll down,

Your thighs decorated in their need for me, 

Your wet intoxicating me before I even taste you, 

Bittersweet I scent it.

Don’t tell me you stink before I smell you, 

I savor the edge of your nervous.

I shall tie your hands so you

Give me your dripping thighs, 

Let me lap at the sweat you are scared of, 

Surrender the salt and tears, they are the same, 

And I will lap lap at your wet as you fall

Sliding slick down my throat, 

Fluttering my eyes bliss, 

Sour edging my nose again and again, 

I am cumming at the taste of you 

I’m the hard on you were looking for, 

In mascara and heels

Leaving streaks of lipstick by your ankles as I edge 

Edge edge you, without touching

Open, pull me in, I’m swollen for you, 

Tasting your bittersweet until I’m drunk 

Knowing there is no sobriety for me ever again, 

Slide me between your lips as

I drink you.

“But she who dares not grasp the thorn, should never crave the rose.” ― Anne Bronte

I kept at it, my palm sticky and wet red,

Grabbing again and again, until I changed hands,

My right my left

The wounds grew jagged and wept and dried black

On the edges.

I’d been doing this a long time now,

Even though the flower had thrown me away she was the one who left

And then she’d choose me again

Draw me in with her pain until

I was gone

And the harsh words weren’t meant and didn’t matter anyway or shouldn’t

And so I’d tape my black edges back together to grasp her again

And fling myself into the hedges,

To show how far I’d leap for her.

Tasting iron blinded by the sun,

I’d fall smelling dust as I land

Held by her thorns as she pressed harder

I wasn’t wet enough for her

After all, for so long she bled me,

So I’d sit up and grasp again and again,

And yet she never let me hold her.

I was allowed to grasp but never pluck,

Touch yet she never was mine.

Midnight Sky

The lyrics to this song speak out to me stronger than any song I’ve heard in a very long time. Perfect.

Yeah, it’s been a long night and the mirror’s tellin’ me to go home (home)
But it’s been a long time since I felt this good on my own
Uh, lotta years went by with my hands tied up in your ropes
Forever and ever, no moreThe midnight sky is the road I’m takin’
Head high up in the clouds
OhI was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you (by you)
Fire in my lungs, can’t bite the devil on my tongue, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you
See my lips on her mouth, everybody’s talking now, baby
Ooh, you know it’s true, yeah
That I was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you (loved by you)La-la, la-la, laShe got her hair pulled back ’cause the sweat’s drippin’ off of her face (her face)
Said it ain’t so bad if I wanna make a couple mistakes
You should know right now that I never stay put in one place
Forever and ever, no more (no more)The midnight sky is the road I’m takin’
Head high up in the clouds
OhI was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you (by you)
Fire in my lungs, can’t bite the devil on my tongue, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you
See my lips on her mouth, everybody’s talking now, baby
Ooh, you know it’s true, yeah
That I was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you (by you)Oh
I don’t hide blurry eyes like you
Like youI was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you (by you)
Fire in my lungs, can’t bite the devil on my tongue, you know
I don’t need to be loved by you
See his hands ’round my waist, thought you’d never be replaced, baby
Ooh, you know it’s true, yeah
That I was born to run, I don’t belong to anyone, oh no
I don’t need to be loved by you, yeah

Bloom

when you pass the mirror, do your eyes only see the light behind you

afraid to catch your own eye

then you’d have to forgive yourself

heart so big it echoes the skies,

storming down jagged arrows of

anger while you burn

so deeply you only smell soot

afraid of your own voice because it rankles your skin

and it is heavy, and it tastes of the dust that bakes in your windowsill

you’re ready to devour the little town you call home,

but it’s not home anymore because home is everywhere and yet you think you’re alone

you’re a teenager again, so gentle I can feel your touch decades later

when we meet for the first time

and I know it’s you without opening my eyes

I can see you deserve gentleness too

yet you serve yourself meals that are empty

and tell yourself you should be full

while your stomach growls because you feed everyone but yourself

I see you, you’re a canyon alive with birdsong,

walking on two legs

you wish you could disappear,

yet I see you and want to make you smile bigger than your big white dog

because you’re beautiful when you forget to be angry at yourself

dear, you’re not the desert, you’re the oasis,

yet your mouth stays dry

while I watch you bloom in the middle of the river

you think you’re drowning

but you’re only watering yourself

Not her fault or mine.

I was driving home yesterday and it struck me. A switch flipped. Just like getting sober, a switch flipped.

I finally comprehend that my Stardust simply wasn’t right for me. And it’s not anyone’s fault. She couldn’t know at the beginning that she’d never trust me. And she tried so hard. I, in turn, couldn’t know that either.

We simply weren’t the right fit. And we learned so much about ourselves. I hope she did.

I don’t feel an overwhelming urge for her today. The one I’ve had for almost three years. Especially since I returned to Texas at the beginning of February eight months ago. I ache and miss her, yes. But I don’t miss how I felt when with her. And none of that is either of our faults.

It’s a fucking gorgeous day. I’m gonna go out in the woods somewhere for a little bit and hope the realizations set in so I can finally have a modicum of peace. For as long as it might last.

Missing her doesn’t feel like dying anymore.

I did learn

Quite a lot, I’m seeing more every day. Now, the time I was there in Idaho, last year exactly.

She taught me so much. These eight months of isolation and solitude has taught me even more.

I’ve seen that everything she hated the most about herself she saw in her mom and others she loved. And I saw that for what it was at the time I was with her.

But I chose to learn how to love rather than how not to.

When you think about what you love in another person…doesn’t it reflect your own feelings?

Everything I love in someone is something I’ve already loved inside me. Those things that make my heart wilt and my body soften, those things are most sacred. They’re the most sacred because I loved them in me, first, before I ever loved them in anyone else.

My love for nature and solitude, I love them in me and I love them in others.

My passion for literature and language and all the ways to spin a web with them that’s so intoxicating we ALL fall into it daily…those sparks I see in others, and I loved them in me first.

My deep abiding love of freedom, of experiencing every part of the world I possibly can, of learning and curiosity and playfulness, those all I loved first in me.

So in a way, my loving anyone is by extension just me loving myself.

And yet people forget that. They seek those things they love about other people, or the ideas, and they forget that they loved those things in themselves first.

Or they get confused and think there’s nothing loveable about themselves, that only others are worth loving. And in effect, their love changes into self-loathing, and feeling lost without someone to give their attention to.

Those things I love most about someone else, I loved those things in me first.

I loved me first. And if I can give anything to those I care about, it’s to show them it’s okay for them to love themselves too.

Walkabout

Woke desperately needing some wild, so took my ass out for a walk. Hike. Both.

It’s one of my favorite spots around here, just isolated (and unpopular) enough that I rarely ever see others in the same area. There’s a river with numerous wash-out areas that all lead to the water. The riverbed is carved through limestone, and rarely changes much.

It isn’t often, but Texas can be quite beautiful in the right spots.

There were still brilliant in-your-face explosions of color.

There’s an abundance of wild ice-cold springs that pop up along this little stretch of river, and the only way to find them is to wade through, feel the water temperature change from tepid to cold, and look for ferns.

It’s so very odd to encounter wild COLD springs in Texas. They exist, yes, but along this river I’ve encountered them along this stretch only.

Clambered to the top of the rocks and sat for a good long while, eye throbbing from what I thought was a horsefly sting, didn’t know it but had the stinger from the little meanie stuck in my eyelashes the entire time.

Didn’t matter, I was alone under the skies, watching eagles dip down to swoop past and touch the water, then soar off again, riding the thermals like a rollercoaster, silently thrilling me. I was quiet, and sunk into the rocks, shaded, at home.

Well-posed so as to NOT capture the puffy eye.

Inside the dark sideways crack in that rock was a small rattlesnake, coiled up, resting, watching me. I said hi to my little brother, thanked him for letting me take pictures of his home, and kept walking. Definitely tried to get some pictures but far too dark to come out clearly and I’m more considerate than to flash his poor eyes with my camera.

Not the clearest, but here is that little damn bastard stinger that hitchhiked inside my eyelashes the entire walk back to my car.

Doesn’t look like much but goddamn no THANK YOU!!

And my gross eye after…took this on the boulder, you can see the stinger clinging to my lashes, though blurry.

Eye throbbing, the whole right side of my face ached. Still pulsing even sitting in the dark at home. My shoe strap kept breaking the entire way back to my car. I twisted my ankle a bit because I couldn’t see clearly, so I slowed way down and took my time and listened.

The grasshoppers sang in the fields as I passed by, a dry serenade to my steps, my breathing, cursing under the pants, it didn’t matter. None of it mattered because this is what nature gives me. I take her gifts and lessons in my stride and learn from them.

We must slow down enough to hear her. Having the whole world in our pockets funnily enough distracts us from her, and we have to stop. Put it down. Ignore the rings and buzzes and chirps unless they’re from the world around us , the REAL one, not the one in our pockets.

I videoed and took pics because I wanted to share the bliss of those moments. Then I put the phone down and walked away to sit far from it a while. To wander, to just exist for a bit anywhere that wasn’t digital. It isn’t there where we live. We live here, now, the glorious now, and how she saves us, if we just embrace her.

Put down the phone, turn off the electronics, go sit on the dirt, bare skin to bare earth if possible. Close your eyes, and just breathe and feel your prayers to the wind, send them and let them go. Our Mother hears us and knows exactly what we need, if we only listen. Trust her.

Be hope. Be love.

(And try to avoid being stung on the eyelid by bees while you’re at it. That shit hurts.)

Because why not

I haven’t felt pretty in ever so long. Months and months. She knew how to make me feel pretty and loved, and voiced so many words of adoration almost every day that now I wonder if those too are a lie. I wonder if she was wrong and so am I and I’m a monster that reflects the ache inside of me and makes me keep people at a distance.

People fucking hurt. And I just don’t feel the need for intimacy outside of my own with myself. And I know I don’t trust me because for two years she lied to me and yet I believed that she trusted me enough to be honest with herself and she never was.

For two years she saw me as a whore and showed it in her distrust and how many times she threw me away. And every time she would love bomb me until I trusted her again with EVERYTHING I am and it was all a lie so how the hell can I trust me enough to let anyone that close again?

I’m not saying those things to make you pity me. I’m not saying them to say I’m a victim either. I own my shit. I’m saying those things because I know that inside me I have so very much to heal and improve before I’m well enough to have a relationship again.

And to be honest, no one has ever loved me like she did, or make me feel the way she did and so why leave a trail of people behind that I hurt over and over again when no one will ever be her?

So. Back to the first paragraph. I wanted to feel pretty. I bought myself some jewelry from Magpie’s Trick, and put on some makeup, and took some photos in the morning light. Best of which is this one:

And damn if it didn’t feel good to be a little pretty for a few minutes. Even wore femme dangly earrings, which I haven’t worn in over a year, and it felt awkward but I mostly felt pretty.

It felt good to stand bare-footed under my favorite tree (in the yard) and dig my toes into the cool damp soil and catch the morning light.

Eventually I’ll feel good more days than I feel bad, and things will balance again. I’m ever optimistic, and I’m too stubborn to give up.

Anniversary

I am sober today two years.

I should have died. I tried to. I turned yellow. I got so skinny my clothes were falling off. I puked and cried and stank as the toxins left me.

My eyes were always wet from crying and yellow and dry from my flagging liver.

I was held and taught to hold myself. To live in the NOW and trust it. To not dwell on the past or what I thought my future was going to look like.

The desert of the Texas panhandle and the canyons saved me. Masibindi saved me.

I saved me. I haven’t craved alcohol since. I don’t know what the switch was that fell, but I am grateful for it every day.

I’m convinced that being in that magical place, in the Texas desert in my least favorite part of the year, was what did it. Something had to break inside of me for the shell to open, like a bluebonnet seed needing damage to sprout.

Seventeen years in a bottle. I should have died. I tried to, but I failed as I did in so many things. My marriage, my religion, my family, my tribe, all of my friends, everything left me. Or I left them.

I lost the love of my life. I tried to die. And then I was there, hardly able to sit upright, with a newly poured full drink in front of me, to the brim. I remember looking at it, smelling it, smelling me. And I couldn’t take another sip. It hurt. Everything hurt. Tunnel vision was only that drink and I shut it down and ran.

Ran to the desert, to quiet reflection looking at the ants crawl across the sand because I had to try to think about anything other than the gagging and puking and dry heaving I’d been doing for three days because I couldn’t keep anything down.

Apologizing repeatedly because I had to run to the bathroom to stand in a way I knew so well because I’d lived that way for weeks now and this was my reality but still I’d breathe and get through this.

Drawing hot baths under the starry night sky in a water trough so I could soak in the moon’s rays and heal while J sat and talked to me about Masibindi and how beautiful she would become.

I cry now because it was such a beautiful miserable painful time and yet I miss those days of simplicity and wild bees and honey and quiet ghostly abandoned towns and canyons that bloomed green out of the red desert like a glorious lush vulva, slick and cold and mossy and damp.

The desert held me and healed me as the dogs Tucker and Porter sat at my side, watching the sun set, smelling the moisture settle on the dust outside, hearing J splash in the moon bath on the porch. The giant windmills would blink in unison, like slow eyes of a drowsy cat, and the Now was beautiful and serene and just what it needed to be.

Two years ago today I didn’t just fight to survive new sobriety, I fought to rebirth myself, and it was bloody and yellow and smelly and I was terrified the entire time.

But I made it. I haven’t looked back, only forward, even if I lost my way a little again I still haven’t touched booze for two years. I have the Now, I have me, a tribe, my son, a family of my own making, and they’re worth it. I’m worth it. And I always have been. I’m learning that now.