There’s no pattern to the trend
That teeter totters without end
No method to a madness that mends,
The sadness between every exhalation,
I pull, you push.
You’re slow, I rush.
There’s nothing happy in the end
To go and slap me in my face again
No loss of sleep, no skipping heartbeat to maintain,
No giggling, no tickling the inkling in my brain,
I give, you take.
You bend, I break.

The Empath and The Opportunist (Still Going).

Last night I had a “date”; not really like a date, because it wasn’t a new person and I didn’t go anywhere…okay, last night I spent time with the Opportunist because I was lonely and emotionally weakened by recent life events.
I shouldn’t have even looked at my phone yesterday at all based on my state of mind over my daughter, but hey – old habits die hard I guess.
He texted me some smart ass remark how nice my ass is out of the clear blue at like 7:30am though, so it was kinda hard to ignore; not to mention the fuckin’ guy’s timing…he must have a sensor of some kind that tells him when my guard is down or whatever, because he pops up without fail (as a good opportunist only should) when I am weak.
Anyway, so yeah…he ended up coming over and we watched Gunslingers and some lame show about gold mining in the arctic or some whack shit. I gave him whatever opportunities he needed last night…and that was that. He says I need to “work on my people skills”…that being asked to get dressed and go home after sex would be highly offensive most guys and I’m “lucky he knows where I’m coming from”…I guess it was always like that between us – even when we lived together, I slept separately at night because I wanted to.
In summary, having a “date” with the opportunist last night only re-affirmed how well-suited someone so shallow is for me at present…because I am still an emotional and social train-wreck, apparently.

Public Display of Unaffection.

He doesn’t want me to climb a high mountain,
to declare what is what from up there, before all the land –
he’d rather if I weren’t publicly affectionate towards him,
his body stiffens anxiously whenever I reach out to hold his hand;
sometimes, the tone in which his voice carries to me,
snaps my bottom lip like he spat the crack of a smart whip –
other times, his overwhelming affections remind me, eerily,
of a man too drunk to walk without having taken a single sip;
He becomes uncomfortably uncomfortable,
when I lean closely into either one of his ears –
it’s as if he expects my whispers to transform into Vipers,
spitting venom that he would sooner die than to hear;
I know it is only a matter of time before he’s no longer mine,
and this fact only makes me make him even less interested –
he says that I don’t communicate my needs and desires to him,
but when I do express myself, he says he wishes I never did;
it seems to be a losing battle with him, when,
he pulls and I push and he lets go and I eat pavement –
it’s a no go zone – despite the fact that it’s my home,
like shoveling the snow as a blizzard lays new layers again;
he can’t possibly have been feeling what I feel,
to keep me veiled by a curtain that separates a room –
my declaration from the mountain might be to him instead,
if he doesn’t help me find a way to climb up there, and soon.

Let’s Go Home.

lets go home