Letter To A Lover

I’m hurting really fucking bad right now. Waves so thick they threaten to pull me under.

You asked me what I wanted…

I want you. All of you that is meant for me. I want your hands on my face while you kiss me. And I want to be kissed. Passionately and often. I want to be able to experience what’s in your heart for me. I want to be in your arms at night. I want to be able to love you, freely and openly and for you to be able to do the same.

I miss you so much right now it is as if I am being torn apart from the inside out. Like some drug crazed lunatic is digging its way out of my chest.

It’s as if I walked a million miles without shoes, on a road paved in glass shards and arrived at a house that has my name on the door. It’s very warm and inviting inside. My key fits perfectly and I go to push the door open and you are there and you hug me and I am home. I can rest here. You take me on a brief tour of the house and I see the refrigerator is stocked with beautiful produce and life giving food and there are puppies in the backyard and a bed that is as soft as the muzzle of a newborn foal and it wraps me in it and covers me and my tired heart is full for a second and I see you are smiling and full too. And then you remember you already let someone live in the house and your eyes harden and you look away from me because she is coming down the hall and you explain to her that I am the one whose name is on the door so you are letting me in but she says the only place I am welcome is on the front porch. So you gently push me out the door. The lock clicking behind me.

Sometimes you open a window and talk to me that way and for a while you were coming outside to sit with me, but I always asked you why I can’t come into my home. And you tell me it’s because you already built a life there. It seems very unfair because I have been searching my whole life for this house and my key fits and I am very tired. But I say it’s okay, I know what’s important to you, you should have your life I close the door and I sleep outside and I think that I am a good woman because I am sacrificing for you. And I say I don’t want you to give up your life even though you told me you are overwhelmed and falling despite your happy face.

Your silence says more than your words and I feel you longing and holding back and boxing yourself in so you don’t wreck what’s inside the house. We don’t need to talk to communicate but I yearn for your words to wrap me up and fold me in your love.

Sometimes you come and nap with me on the porch. And you tell me your house will never be the same now that I came and I know much of the time you want to sit with me, but you don’t. And it hurts. I watch from the outside, loving you and wanting you to be happy but knowing this isn’t sustainable for either of us.

For a while I get used to the front porch and I see you wave as you walk by the window and I wave back and I’m not content but your laugh makes my heart bloom and I love you, so it’s okay. Until one day a man comes up to me and says I can sleep on his porch too. It’s enclosed so it’s a little warmer there but it’s dark and scary and I have to give up my body and my integrity to do so. You’ve never asked me to sacrifice my body, even though I would have given it to you happily. Your touch is the only one that hasn’t made my skin crawl. I say no to this man because I finally realize I don’t need to give myself up to feel a second of connection. I get mad as hell and I run him off the property and I stand in the middle of the road for a minute and my feet are bleeding again and I look back at the house… with my name on it… and I see you through the window, tortured and struggling to breathe, but smiling and I think maybe I should walk off again.

Maybe there is another house for me, my name might be spelled wrong and the bed isn’t as nice but maybe I can make it fit. Or maybe I keep walking and find a way to build my own small house. And I send you a key that you put in a golden box under your bed. Maybe you look at it once in a while and hold it in your hands and feel its warmth and smile sadly in your heart as you put the lid back on and close the box and slide it back under your bed. And I sit on my front porch, the porch I built… and it’s a little wonky and warped but it has soft lights around the top and I can see the mountains and every night I sit out there staring at the stars, waiting for you to walk down the driveway.

Knowing that you won’t.

Maybe there is a man who comes out to sit near me once in a while and he sees the far off look in my eyes and knows my heart is not there but he loves me so he leaves me be and doesn’t say anything because he accepts that there is a part of me that will never be his.

My heart says to go back to the porch and wait a little longer even though I am getting weaker, because maybe someday you will let me build a little house in the backyard and I can have a puppy and you will come out and sit with me more often and we will love each other from afar. And that sounds okay but I know my heart will always want to sleep in that bed, in the house with my name on it. I wonder why I can’t just be happy sleeping in the backyard because I know I am safe there. All I have ever wanted was to feel safe. A good woman stays quiet and accepts what she is given.

My head says to start walking again because I deserve a house of my own, but I don’t know if my body can carry me very far. I know I will have to fight for my life again and while I feel stronger because you have been feeding me a little, I know food will be scarce again. Maybe I will find everything I need along the way. Maybe I’ll make myself a pair of shoes. I’ve done it before. But I know walking means I will never see you again. So I stand in the road with my feet bleeding and my heart breaking, praying like hell that you will open the door and invite me in. And you see the indecision in my heart and you do open the door and you smile and you hold out a pair of shoes. Encouraging me to do what’s best for me, even if it means walking away because you know you won’t ever give me what I am asking for and more than anything you want me to be happy. I walk over and grab them and look into your eyes knowing that you will always be okay even if you are dying inside and I turn away and put the shoes under my pillow and curl up to sleep knowing I am not strong enough to start walking yet and hoping that the storm that’s on the horizon will not be more than I can handle.

All because someone reminded me I was sleeping on a porch. Pining after a man who is loving me, behind a shut door. And I have been sleeping on porches my whole life.

A fire has started inside me. It’s burning all of the things I have known. All of the bullshit meanings of what is it to be a woman. All of the walls I built to make me safe which have actually left me a prisoner. The fire threatens the house. Threatens your life and mine. So I step off the porch. And as my insides burn and writhe in agony I stand calmly, bearing the destruction because I know it will be a rebirth of freedom. For both of us.

I will build my own house of blood, sweat and tears… so many tears. And I will invite others in to see if any fit. I will not settle for less than I deserve anymore. And whoever I am with will have to be okay knowing there will always be a far off universe in my eyes that connects me to your heart. They will never understand and I won’t give anyone an explanation.

But for now… I build. Forged by flames. By myself, for myself. Perfectly imperfect. Messy and disorganized, but pristinely me. ❤ ❤

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