San Juan

it was wild, our time together was wild. The heat of California's dry summer, San Juan Capistrano and your white t-shirt. You wouldn't let my hand go, why'd you let it go? And seemingly it's all my fault, sometimes I break down because it's "my fault" sometimes I can't get out of bed because it was all my fault. How was I supposed to drive back to the chaos as if it was going to all be ok? And now it's my fault all over again. I can't bare to think of you broken and lonely. It hurts my heart, you might not believe it, but it destroys my happiness in the moments I think of you letting go…finally letting go…Were we ever supposed to let go?  Sometimes I go about my life as if I'm always going home to you, as if you are waiting at home for me.  Home? Home???? Is there such thing alone, without you? I'm without you. We broke our marriage, we broke our promises…So what does it mean to you now when I promise to you that I'm sorry? What does it mean to both of us when we say we miss each other? What does it mean when we both say, this time…it would be ok? It was wild, our time together was wild. My hand was always in yours, and your lips always my home.

Moments...where I've felt something...alive

Just let go girl...

                      I miss you, I miss how you had no fear of being alone. I miss the girl you were when you had 60 dollars to your name, living out of your car with nothing but a surf board and a prayer. How you laid on a picnic table on christmas day soulfully alone and you found joy in that. You felt loved more abundantly from God himself, and the two of you talked that day. He showed you the sun rays touching the pacific from the cliffs of San Onofre, and it was brilliant. I admire you for leaving behind everything to openly understand your love for a boy that told you the timing was wrong. I miss the nights spent wasted away in your car when you put on layers of clothes to keep your eyes tight  so that the cold air didn't wake you from your dreams. I am so happy for the broken days when you had nothing but yourself and the people that you would stumble upon. I hold dear the conversations with strangers, how their thoughts opened your eyes to someone else's reality other than yours. Scars kiss us all and you understand that better now. I wish I still had that green journal that you would write in when you felt lonely. How you would talk to God and look for the best in "all of this" I miss the miles that you drove to get away, when looking back I realize that they brought you to yourself, to your own heart. I remember the day you went for a run, because you felt so lost. You stood at the edge of a cliff on Newport's Coast on a restricted shore line, threw your arms in the air as the sea gulls drifted by past you, as the cliff dropped off drastically at your toes. I love how your thoughts told you that those sea birds told you to jump, because they knew you believed you could fly. Just let go girl, let everything go. I love that you learned to never judge a book by its cover, that the blanket that covers the body, never will cover the soul. How you found beauty in the echos of the voice from the man you met at the laundry mat, speaking of the love he has for his wife "back home" how the miles only open his eyes to the brilliance of true love, he was reading war and peace. I miss the cold showers outside in front of the ocean, thank God for such a beautiful view to distract you from the cold air. I love how you seemed to meet people that helped you in ways that you are unable to understand, and the ones that told you that you have helped change their perspective in ways so differently. How God sent you a beautiful Italian man, on the day you felt homeless and un-pretty,  that stopped by your  surf spot and told you how "bella" you are, kissed your cheek and left. I love that he couldn't understand you, and you couldn't understand him. I love that your heart still never lets you forget february 5, and for reasons I believe to be the meaning in "all of this" For the loss of love showed you what love was truly all about. I love that his love holds your hand still when everything seems to be wrong. I love how the California salt air kissed your skin goodnight as the train tracks at trestles were your lullaby. I love how you followed a dream in hopes to better understand what this world is all about, how it speaks to us when we don't even know it, how life hands us tests that are terrible and hard, but I know that you are even grateful for the worst of it. I will never forget the Carolina nights and how they were the start to the journey of who you are, the harsh pain of a reality based on a love that consumed you, and through it, bettered your soul and the girl you were meant to be. For in the dark storm, now you know the rain was not detrimental, and you will always love the rain and appreciate the storm.

              Darling, you'll be ok. The past is yours, and the future a gift….Just let go girl, let everything go…..

Love at first sight, on a cold winters night

I spent a few winter cold nights in Yosemite for a birthday of mine, some time ago. I went with a lover. He was kind to take me to a place he knew id love, and for that, I owe him many thanks, for introducing me to a love that would last a life time. The wilderness, California beauty, wrapped up with Sequoia trees and water falls, not to mention the face of half dome. It was a cold evening that would lead to a cold nights sleep. I went into our tent to put on more clothes to meet  my lover in front of a fire being shared by all the misfits of the village camping out in camp 4.  I remember the night and how it was about to take over the day. The light from the day was saying good bye and making way for some pretty amazing star shows. I opened the door to the tent, zipped it up behind me and made my way to the fire, and there he sat, in a maroon hoodie, khaki hiking pants and flip flops. Black hair and a beard to match his rugged nomadic look. And at first sight, I fell in love. Although I have never known him outside of those few days, I will carry his spirit with me, always. I believe there are people in this world that we instantly fall in love with, even if they never share our bed, they are in our hearts. How he spoke to me, and how he looked at me…how he looked at me, with beautiful dark, mysterious eyes, captivated me like a fairy tale, sharing the same heat from that hot fire…I wanted to know him, inside and out. I wanted to hear his story, and what made him who he was. His hands, I wanted so badly to touch, but couldn't. He slept in a hammock, tucked in his sleeping bag, under the tress and stars. What lucky stars to see such beauty as it sleeps.  I saw him differently as though he had words that would resonant within me, that I would carry and cherish. His views his morals, his adventures he spoke of…Wrapped themselves around me, and held on…His last name…Byrnes…and how his lasting impression burns within my being as the fire that we shared, the fire that reflected in his eyes, the fire that I felt inside…Love at first sight, in camp 4, on a cold winters night. 

Riven

i was broken, riven, lying on the floor, with tears from something that I can't  fathom.  i can't call it crying, because i've never tasted such terror in tears, such apprehension. Belly full of life, and heart about to explode. Slavered on by love, told of my worthlessness by the one who should have held me. Deluded  by the one I believed I loved. Called a devil with green eyes from his invidious lips. His eyes, luminosity, hate. Immaculate hostility. He was indifferent to my pleas for mercy. He was deaf to my sincerity, the heartache that was obsolete to his rationality. I caught myself looking in the mirror, touching my hand's reflection with my finger tips, and feeling nothing, looking at my blank expression that seemed to bestow upon me, the  flag of "i give up"   She was nothing of absolute. She was broken and disdained. The arrogance of my own self seemed to pity the girl I saw. Seemed to let go of who she thought herself to be, who she wanted to be, and who she ever hoped to be. He stripped me of my worth, and made me feel as though I needed him, because somehow in all the scrutiny, he made me believe I was in fact, inconsequential… There were moments of complete and utter feelings of, loss, of a noble heart shattered by the wrath of his unrelenting, remorseless world. My world. Our world.  Some days at work, I found myself having to run to the bathroom, where I would lock myself inside a stall, and break down, completely forfeit every piece of composure i could muster to get any composer at all. Gone. Literally, gone. Those lonely, indescribable tears, full of hearted desolation.  Consternation, perplexity, My world then…and it haunts me at times, how do you run from such consciousness? Escape seems to not be an option. I do not dare let or allow myself to forget the moments I speak of, how dare I consign to oblivion the possibility of my past repeating itself once again….Never, never, at no time, never. 

The beginning

Maybe it's not meant to be a sad sad lonely tail, the story, my story...I'm writing. I have many secrets, secrets I'm ashamed of. Things i've done, in darkness, that I wish I could take back, but I know I can't. I'm going to write my story. All of it, and I hope you're reading... Day by day, truth...my truth. How i felt, how I feel now..What has shaped my thoughts and my emotions, my decisions and my path.
             We all have a first love, that somehow becomes a memory and someone takes his place. I was 18, and just ending my senior year of high school. He was beautiful and older, 23. It was that "can't eat, can't sleep"   type of love, to a girl that had no idea of this big world. The memories are sweet and cherished. I fell in love but maybe subconsciously  I knew I had so much more of a journey waiting just ahead. I spent three years with him. I had plans of a future with him. Maybe those plans were placed in my mind because that's how we are all "supposed" to live our lives. Husband and wife, the white picket fence, how it "called" to me???? I was newly 21 and seemingly my life was perfect. Great boyfriend, school, great family and friends, good job...I was on that "white picket fence" path....I can't explain what it was that drew the line for me, the line that brought to writing him that letter, telling him I had to leave, but something was telling, "GO."   I packed my things into my red car and drove off to Hilton Head, South Carolina where I would stay with my grandparents and figure my future out...It was a late evening and beneath the spanish moss and lingering February air my grandma stepped into my room and said she had an engagement party to attend. She told me, "Maybe you will meet some friends there, Amy."    I walked up the brilliant path, glowing from the small lights along it's way, leading up to the huge glass door of the plantation home. And there he was, standing in a blue sweater, holding onto one crutch. I noticed him right away, smiling with a beer in hand. A light in the room. The party went on, and the people were so happy. I stepped outside to get a drink and that's when he approached me. Small talk was made and finally he pulled out his iphone. Numbers were exchanged. I can't say that I was completely head over heels for him instantly, but he definitely was a good reason to smile.  A few days later and I got a text asking to hang out. I believe I declined him the first time, but not the second. He invited me to hang out at his parents house. I kindly accepted and asked him for directions. I was to meet him at the Port Royal Plantation. I made my way there that evening, pulling up the long drive way up to the most beautiful Southern home. It was massive! I remember being so nervous walking up the steps to his home, and then the door opened. There my future stood, an elegant glass of wine in hand and the other arm stretched out for a hug. I can still remember how he holds his hand to place it on a shoulder to give a very welcoming hug. He was a light. I know that's what drew me in. He had this smile, this love for life, that was so new to me. So accepting and caring. I instantly felt drawn to him. We sat on the leather sofa that night, sipping on wine, and watching the movie, "the five people you meet in heaven."   And that was the beginning, to everything....to the chaos, to brilliance of life, the hot summer southern nights...to what has been and to what is....This is my story....

           

Endless...

She was supposed to have a story, words written so that everyone could fathom her as someone she really isn't. Maybe she wanted to run from the truth. The words that would reveal to her, her own truth. Of love that proved itself to be anything but...Is that what he wanted her to say, to admit. That she was in love and love, spit in her face. Her past had a disheartening way of repeating itself. Is that what he wanted? Did he want to send her into a whirlwind? Did he want her to crash, because he somehow thought it would bring her heart into an endless void of can't get up, can't get out. Stuck on his eyes, his eyes overtaking her mind...always. Because that's what he did. And she was never right, and somehow he knew everything, because his wrongs could never be anything but right...but her, she was endlessly wrong...