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Taking Care - Callista Buchen
I sit with my grief. I mother it. I hold its small, hot hand. I don’t say, shhh. I don’t say, it is okay. I wait until it is done having feelings. Then we stand and we go wash the dishes. We crack open bedroom doors, step over the creaks, and kiss the children. We are sore from this grief, like we’ve returned from a run, like we are training for a marathon. I’m with you all the way, says my grief, whispering, and then we splash our face with water and stretch, one big shadow and one small.
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Today was such a good day. A reminder that I got good folk around
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This nigga doesn’t love me. And im blind as fuck to it
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My chest is so fucking tight. You cannot be my person. No matter how bad I’d like you to be
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I don’t miss you. A part of me feels like I’m lying but when I think of you the love I had is gone. hm. Jekyll and Hyde.
One so sweet and charming and the other quick to spit fire and crush whatever’s in its path. Therapy was hard today but I had to let it out to Megan. Was I beating myself up in the beginning, yes. Now I’m just lying in the dirt. Thinking about what occurred. Thinking about how my mom treated me Thursday. How my dad couldn’t get back to either of my calls. I just think. My chest and stomach have been tight these past days but that’s cause I’m a bit anxious, confused, upset with what happened. HM. Searching/expecting for an apology that’ll never come is rough. Your poem is fucking me up. Those feelings you had for me flipped FAST. My love for you left just as quick that night. I never expected you to do that to me, which is comical cause you’ve treated me like dirt before. Why couldn’t you again. I hate screaming. I hate being talked to like a child. Yap and cry, yap and cry. You’re a reflection of my biggest trigger and I loved you so much. Just like i loved her when I was a child.
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I relied on romantic maladaptive daydreaming for survival as a child, and have been love sick ever since
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