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History

I have tried, desperately to find the words that I need to say. That love isn’t a fairytale, darling. That men who love you don’t try to lie to you, they don’t tell you the words you want to hear when they don’t even believe them. They don’t live to dismay you, betray you. No. That isn’t love. Love is never saying goodbye, only goodnight. Love is bigger than all of our dreams. Bigger than wanting classic cars and a house in the hills. And I know his high tops, blue jeans and white t-shirts made you bite your lip. I know his long hair, his temper, his faux swagger…They made you think of your mama and how she would never approve. Everyone wants a bad boy. A player. But baby…Players only love you when they’re playing. And oh darling, I can’t win. We are all slow to acknowledge the knots in our own laces. It’s easy to claim indifference. And I can’t blame you, oh baby, no. I can’t blame you one little bit. Because youth is the great equalizer, and we all do things we regret. Hindsight is 20/20, they say, because you never see things clearer than when you reflect upon them. Days, months, years…decades, even…later. When the electric touches die down and the breathless moments have disappeared. When you’re all but too old to change your mind. When you can’t recognize yourself in the mirror anymore. I have been trying forever to find the words I need to say. We have all said these words before. If I ever had a chance, I wish you had let me know. No, not tonight, it’s too late. I stood too long in this pouring rain, and I tried to give out umbrellas to everyone who walked by. I never thought this would be perfect and I couldn’t count how many ways I hated it. But all I could do was wait, counting the cracks in the paint. And this wasn’t the life I chose to live, I had dreamt of so much more, but I will gladly take this. There are not words to explain how much it hurts me for you to walk the path I have made. In many ways, I still miss the old days and you will too. You will wonder what made you think this was a good idea. Alone we stand, and the tables turn. Together we always fall apart. Promises break before they’re made. Fears and tragedy hit you together. But you mustn’t waste more time. Don’t wait to speak. Don’t wait until you have tears running down your dirty cheeks and bruises on your knees. Remember that I told you, it’s better to die on your feet. I spent enough time on my knees for both of us. We were born to fade but I always had enough glitter to catch someone’s eye. It’s an art, and no matter what he tells you, you are an enigma. As amazing as the setting sun. This is always the same story baby. We can’t rewrite it, fill in the blanks and hope for the best. No. We just can’t. The wrongs are what make this world come to life. I always tried to fix it, but I never could find the words to make it better. He was always a man of many hats, master of none. And I liked to believe in all the possibilities, but those who don’t learn from history are doomed to repeat it.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Can't Fix Stupid

It’s funny, really, how you backtrack. Retrace your steps. Fall back into all your old, familiar ways. You always did fold before you were half way through. Your begging never phased me, lies weren’t packaged pretty enough for me to fall over them. It’s just, funny. She thought you wanted her and all her words. All her dreams and aspirations, when all you wanted was her ‘love’ in the form of crawling into your bed. And I know how hard it was for you to make progress, but I need you keep up with me this time. She is so young and desperate. For attention and affection. She believes she can save a man who has his feet planted firmly, exactly where he wants them. She thinks that rings and promises will make all the difference. Promises don’t mean a lot when your fingers are crossed and your tongue is tied. Don’t mean much when he’s pouting about everyone who’s ever done him wrong. Don’t mean much when he’s got a wife and three kids in an apartment across town. I guess she forgets that he made promises to them too, once. And I’m not trying to say that the man didn’t try and I’m not trying to say that every word that comes out of his mouth is a lie but the only difference between being a martyr and killing yourself is the press coverage, babydoll. And I’m not trying to say that ya’ll won’t have a wonderful life, if you can get past all the lying and wondering who’s next in line, if you can get past never being the only one. We all want to have our piece of the pie, and I’m not saying that you can’t have yours, just that maybe you should think a little more before you open that snapchat. Remember that there is nothing romantic about silence. That you can just survive all by yourself, that you deserve a wonderful life. But my grandma always said you can’t fix stupid, and you might just be irreparably broken darling. 

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Home Is Where The Heart Is

Home is the place that Needs no golden ticket More American than TV static and whistling Dixie. Home smells like Stale cigarettes and Dog breath Mixed with Febreeze and My grandma’s Shalimar Home is Different now After all my wandering And all of my Growing All of the tangents Nights I spent alone Or wishing I was Home is Wherever I’m with him Home is infinte Without borders Cut through with miles And time Home is Different now But still the same.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

All is fair in love and war...

And we might not be best friends. We might be unlikely allies. Clever foes. Maybe I'm stupid. To put any faith in you at all. To think that I can fix everyone. Anyone. I believe in fairytales. I don't want average. I don't want good enough. I want a wonderful life. And I want it for you too. I want you to be the last in a long succession of silly girls for my boy. I buy you things. Just in case he forgets like he always did. Because you're special too. And eventually you will see that. And I see things in your eyes that used to flash in mine. When he rolls over and says nothing, you ignore him. Say you're sorry and leave it. In the morning, he will be over it. But I know that's hard. How do you think I got half the fingerprint bruises? Half the broken bones? Because bad attention. It's always better than none. I may be a piss poor consolation prize, sweet girl, but I can't think of anyone I would rather teach this game.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Always a Maybe

Oh sweet girl, you don’t understand yet. No, you don’t see all that he is, not yet. You will. I promise. But today you think he loves you. You think that you light up his world like no one else could. You think you are special and magical. You think you can save him from himself. You don’t see that he doesn’t love your skin, only the way it feels against his. He doesn’t love the way you crinkle your nose when you giggle. He doesn’t love the way you laugh, or smile. He doesn’t love your tears, even though they hurt. No. He loves the way your breath catches when he fucks you too hard. He loves the way you wince, just a little, when he says your name too loud. He loves the way you pick up the tab. He loves the way you aren’t sure if it’s the truth or a lie when he says I love you. When you say it back. It’s not the truth. It’s not a lie. It’s a hope. If you put enough faith in those three little words, maybe they’ll come true. Maybe he’ll see stars. Maybe you’ll catch them. Maybe is a word that is nearly as powerful as almost. It hurts just as bad.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Time.

Here’s to the house we don’t live in To the kids we have And the life we won’t give them I can’t help but wonder If I had swallowed my pride If this would have been something Or if it would have been just more time

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I Don’t Owe You

“Stay faithful.” She whispered into the phone, so quietly that she wasn’t even sure that he heard her. “Well that’s a new one...” He scoffed With her eyes closed she could see the sneer on his face. Could see the way his lips pursed and his nose scrunched. The way his forehead wrinkled, more now than a decade ago.  “You never had a problem with my lack of deep commitment before, little lady.” “Mmm. It’s different now. It’s different with him.”  And it was. Everything changed for her, the moment he breathed life into her name. She had all the faith in the world in him, and it gave her so much hope for the world. She wanted everyone to be as deliriously happy as she was. Wanted everyone to have someone to love as deeply as she loved him.  “Well ain’t that nice for him...” His tone dripped of bitterness and contempt, and she softly sighed, because there was nothing left to say, not really. “Yea...I guess it really is.”

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Until I met you.

I was never the girl who loved the snow. Never liked the cold. Never reveled in seeing my breath in the morning. Not until I met you. I still don’t appreciate shivering, but when I start my car in the morning and my girls say “How cold is it in Canada?” I smile. I was never the girl who wanted to bring other people into my children’s lives. I never wanted to wash my hands of their father. Never thought they might be horrified by the way we lived. Not until I met you. I still don’t love the idea of my children being raised, in part, by a woman I don’t know, but when their eyes light up at the mention of spending the day with her, I can’t be upset. I was never the girl who could love from afar. Never fell asleep on the phone. Never missed a man I loved. Not until I met you. I still don’t know how I will manage this, but the thought of not holding you is far better than the thought of not having you. I was never the girl who let her feelings show. Never allowed myself the cold comfort of crying myself to sleep. Never lit up over a text message. Never broke down over a goodbye. Not until I met you. I still don’t want everyone to know I feel things, vibrantly and without any semblance of control, but the thought of not feeling is infinitely worse than the tears that stream down my face when I have to leave. I was never the girl who believed in happily ever after. Never thought I’d have more than “stay together for the kids”. Never believed the world would stop for me when I kissed someone. Never thought I would have a fairytale. Until I met you. I still don’t know how I managed to get so lucky, but I believe in fate, and I know you do too. I was never the girl who wanted someone else to be happy. Never wanted to share my toys. Never wanted to let go. Never wanted someone else to have something I couldn’t. Until I met you. I want him to be happy, and if that means I have to let go of every ‘I love you’ and every 'I’m sorry’ that was half assed and never believed, then I will. Because I am not angry anymore. Because I believe in fairy tales and happily ever after. And if this is theirs, I am glad. Everyone deserves to feel exactly what I do when you look at me. And I know. I know he never felt that for me, and it’s unfair to chain something that wants to be free. I only hope that you, and she, can love the tiniest of people at least half as much as you love their parents, because I was always the girl who loved them more than I loved myself, and lately I’m pretty fond of who I’ve become. 

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

I’m All Out Of Words, Baby

There is something to be said About pain At least I can feel Something Something exquisite Something not entirely new New enough to be Different There is something to be said About the pain Of fresh blood Of missed dreams Missed connections Missing you Just missing There is something to be said About all of this I’m just not sure What it is...

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Thoughts On Coffee

I think there is something to be said about Men who take their coffee black They can handle bitter things Without trying to change them. They can appreciate that Not everything is always  Sweet and pretty.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Infinitely.

It’s 5 in the morning and I’m not sure if I’m up because of the 4 glasses of iced coffee or because I miss you. Caffeine is over-rated because the feeling of laying in that bed without you is almost unbearable. I don’t know how I am going to hold it together for the next three years. I don’t know how I’m going to hold it together for the next three hours, if I’m in it for the honesty. And maybe I won’t hold it together. Maybe I will fall apart. Maybe I will burst at the seams with all of these feelings. Maybe… But if I fall apart, I know you will pick up my pieces and I know you will watch me cry and wish you could wipe away my tears. This is so much harder than I had ever anticipated. I had assumed it would go back to how it was…but it hasn’t and I don’t think it ever will. It’s worth it. Every minute I miss you. It is worth every lonely night, every time I roll over and I wish you were there. Every time I feel like I’m drowning. Every time I have to touch a screen instead of you face. It’s worth it. Even if tonight my mascara runs and I can’t breathe. It’s worth it, because I couldn’t find a man worth more than you. I couldn’t find anything even half as good as us, even if I searched for the rest of my lifetime. And I wish I could whisper “Stay. Stay. Stay.”, but I know that I can’t say it. As selfish as I am, I couldn’t. It would make it so much harder. So much worse. This is why we buy round-trip tickets, and I know that’s not romantic, but some things can’t be avoided. I know this is so much to ask of anyone, prettyboy, but I wouldn’t do it for anyone less than perfect. I wouldn’t do it with anyone who wasn’t you. I love you, infinitely. 

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Choices

I think it's worth saying, a million times after you get tired of hearing it if need be, that you are absolutely the best partner I could have been given to journey through this world and the next with. I never knew how much I could love someone who wasn't "mine" but I suppose you are, in a completely different way. You're mine by choice. Choices you make every day, to be with me. To trust me. To want me. You are a man who is made up entirely of the things other men are afraid to be, and I am lucky. So fucking lucky. I don't think I will ever understand why fate brought us together, but I know that there is nothing that could pull us apart. Not even distance. Not even time. I love you, forever, for always and no matter what. Thank you for being more than I ever could have anticipated in my wildest dreams. You are everything.

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I miss you

My pillows don't smell like you anymore and it has been three days since I touched your face. I miss your hand in mine in the car and your arms around me while I fix lunch. I miss waking you up with kisses and snuggles, instead of FaceTime calls. I miss whispering "5 more minutes" and falling back to sleep in your arms. I don't need NyQuil anymore, the exhaustion of walking through this world without you is enough. I never thought I could love someone like I love you. Miss someone the way I miss you. Things have changed for me, and that's okay.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

With You.

Despite all reasons to believe otherwise I had always know that somewhere, over the rainbow, there were people out there who were truly and deliriously happy, I just never imagined it could be me. It was a dish best served to others and enjoyed vicariously. Oh yes. It was a possibility, for him or her or you, but not for me. Though when I open my eyes and I see you, still asleep, with fluffy hair and an ever so slight snore because you’re exhausted, I know. That love is not a game and happiness is not a fairytale. I can see my whole life planned out in your eyes and the promise of tomorrow doesn’t seem so much like a floss stitched pipe dream. And though I’ve never been much of a gambler, I don’t feel like, though the stakes are so fucking high, that the odds are against me. Not this time. Happy, is a place on the earth. Anywhere. With you.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

He met them in middle school, silly girl, and eventually he fell in. Sank and couldn’t swim. But, oh oh oh, you always were a strong swimmer. Even with the weight of the world on your shoulders, trying to drown you. Even with the cinder blocks tied to your ankles. So you grabbed him too. “Oh you mustn’t let go” you cooed, as you held his face in your hand and he nodded. “You’re the official nod-squad, baby girl” he laughed as you left the room, certain he would be okay while you took everyone out for the day. You smiled and kissed the top of his head, leaving the warmth of your bed to drive downtown. The mall was glorious. Christmas was in the air. “You smell like Christmas” he whispered when you got back, and you smiled when he wrapped you up in his arms. “You sparkle, my sweet, Classic girl.” and you giggled, like you never have again. You don’t sparkle anymore. Darling, you never did. That was just the heroin and the gin talking. You gotta love yourself more. Again.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

Lifetime

It’s not for keeps, it never is. Never was. It’s all for show. All for the people outside of these closed doors to gaze upon and wish for. Those great sweaters covering hand print bruises around your arms and broken ribs. Never hit me in the face. Promise. Bloody lips from wedding bands. Smelling like someone else’s cigarette smoke. Begging for someone to tell you they wanted you. Even if it was only for what you could do for them. For midnight mistakes, regretted as soon as day breaks. Acrylic nails so you keep them out of your mouth. Big diamonds, fake eyelashes. Don’t eat. Your weight really bothers me. It’s always for show. Fertility treatments, so no one knows you’re failing. New cars, new house, no money. Clean floors, clean kids, conscience, not so much. We’re doing fine. Big smiles, hold hands, give out all the presents. Secrets. Always so many secrets. Swallow your tongue. Swallow your pride. Laugh. Go home, scream. Are you fucking stupid? Again? We are doing this again? Hands around your throat, sneer on your face. You better kill me next time, when he lets go. He doesn’t. Breathe. Makeup covers the broken blood vessels. Bloody lip from chewing it, can’t put acrylic on that. Xanax. Valium. Maybe you should try pot. Maybe if you calm down. Maybe if you could just be enough. You will never be enough. This will hurt you more than you care to admit. No one will ever know. What happens behind closed doors, stays there. For a lifetime.

[lostboysandbourbon-blog]

There are games we all play that we know we can't win, and I always thought love was hers. She always won the first round and that was impressive, truly, but like me she held her cards close to her chest and they were all aces. She would giggle and bite her lip when she told you it wasn't her, it was definitely you, and she always came back. Her phone distracted her for, maybe, a minute and she asked which shirt showed better cleavage, but she would always be home just in time to cook supper and tuck everyone in safely. That is all way above my pay grade, you know. She was mine, at the end of the day, every day. We didn't play tug of war anymore, it was what it was and she accepted it. "Oh sillyboy," she purred one night when she came in the house. She had been on the phone with a friend, I had assumed. "We need to talk." And that is when she broke all of my windows. She was...in love. With a boy who dreamed about changing the world. Who wanted her and everything that came with that package. Who didn't order another drink to keep himself numb while she talked. Who missed her. Who wasn't routine. She loved him, like she never loved me, and when she said his name I knew. He was the reason why the words to drink your whiskey to were closer to sugar now. I have no room to talk, but the half smoked cigarettes and long forgotten wedding bands made me think maybe she was the game, and I think I just lost.