Sold To Self
Scratch that. Apologies over; no more with the sorry. Let it go because deserving the pleasures that everyone else just takes without question is an attitude that has been dormant. Wake up. Twist/turn, toss. Take it slow. Turn, pass the right. Oh wait, just take it. What is wanted leaves nothing but a wash without the dinner. At least not from him. What is to be a momma without her child? Pick it up, the cold-hard ugly truth. More. Enough is on an end where balance is pulling on the other side. Again. Here it is, it was spoken into fruition and freedom is nowhere in this own home unless the past knows better this go, and they will.
Whatever. This is mostly the feeling. Hearing the cute unfamiliar pet name can take a seat, like always. Just not with it, or can it be given with a feeling? Can it be felt? Why, oh why, does it have to feel suspicious and nauseating every single time someone makes a bare attempt to say something normal that sends every flare off? Again. That is two, but who is counting? This time. How many little boys have to test a patience threshold that is double their age only in essence while children are the only ones to know better that women like this want nothing they have because they build homes and give more than dinner on the table but literally may just be a programmed mathematical question to exhale with answers missing from another notebook. There is no need to touch innocence. Take, never give, give nothing back. It is done.
Memories fond when it can find a place that fits where societal standards is a switch in terminology to redirect a sad, pathetic. Taken, in every possible way. Down to the main life inside a woman, eggs. Sale prices on shelves that come from an animal meet nothing to a woman in suffering from both sides. Men and women; good and bad. It is an imbalanced grammatical flat-line. Where one teeters – the other finds pressure in a hold that is winding.
Giving inn can be an Inn at home that no one needs, establish boundaries within your own. Take claim to your own space. And give it where it can but the discussion doesn’t hold a seat where a council that does not exist thinks it exists. Take a seat, somewhere in life I don’t sit because oh, please. It isn’t a place that is desirable; exit stage left. To the left. There is not always a box, to the left. To the left. Missing is everything that goes in the box. It is everything that is just yours and where it is a whisper in someone, it is slight. Attention to the details in the dedication to speak on words that don’t sit.
Gas – light – the truth. Gaslighting in a quiet inquiry – what is it? Tell me lies with the ambiance. Tell me. Gaslight pro, the video cam. There’s no more lies in life that you can give me where I believe nonsense. Choke on expressions, side eyes can give nothing but hope. They know. Good. I know too.
It was a normal moment to forget, this sad bland explanation without all the feels that gives me him. Especially now, there was a night where I was there with him and his friend – but no, I couldn’t. I couldn’t yes and it came with more than I could give, but him. I wanted him, and now and then, I take him back in myself. There’s a quiet, darkness to release when you find a memory fond to the plain sit between less words than is necessary. He gave me a view. There, at the bar. Remembering a still night between two. Unsure was it there. There was a bed too comforting, his smile. To carry to the pillow. Peaceful nights come few to the morning, but the race home… much later, to leave him.
There was a crash, a wreck. Did he know? There was more a night’s sleep and less to the bottle that carried wheels into the divot at the sight, a familiar face. A night’s work as an associate never provides the month. It is a feat to feature the realization that life left itself behind.