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😦
The vast majority of my good cheer
Has been wasted on strangers
I’m grumpy now
Crabby
I think that I am the endearing kind of crabby
You dropped me with two little words. Happy Holidays. What the fuck kind of thing is that to say? I love my men instantaneously.
And am always surprised when the two of us, “us,” combust spontaneously internally how could this happen to me how could he/you not love me why am I powerless to stop myself or him or you.
It’s not meant to be a dig I’m sure
It just does
Deep down
Disrupting fragile roots
Severing some, severely damaging others
Nonessentials are left unharmed
that time of year
when lips get chapped
I stretch them taunt
so the skin rips apart
finally giving way
to flaps
that can be painfully torn away
As the myth goes
you were a cold bastard
badforme
in countless ways
you used up my nonrenewable resources
polluting the air
forthehellofit
As much as I hate to dwell
I am still reminded of you
every day
you clutter me
themythistherewaseveranyyouandme
You have the look
of someone nice
mysterious
sexy
You have a mind
that is quick
clever
alert
It’s what it always is: a question of foundations
Is your heart strong enough?
Is mine?
Let’s not get ahead of ourselves.
Feeling momentarily hopeful is a far cry from being hopeful. My mood has lifted, but there’s a shadow in the back of my mind, always brooding, peripherally threatening me at all times.
Meeting someone new is not just scary, it’s terrifying. There’s the whole meeting for the first time. There’s the whole “does he like me?” thing. The whole “do I like him thing?” thing. The questions that bite press against the skin sharply: can I continually push beyond my comfort zone, is he worth the effort it takes for me to overcome my panic, is he just like this or that former flame (or the equivalent in his own way).
Assertiveness is tied to letting go. It requires you to own your wants and needs and say to hell with your fears of rejection and your doubts about yourself and the other person involved. Can I let go?
But when I think of the time I’ve spent with this person, I feel as though it’s like a light, flaky breakfast pastry that I want to taste again soon. And it doesn’t have to be an all-consuming event to have a quick bite.
If I wished at all
I’d be content from here on
From now until then
It was cold out, and he came to cook for me. The warmth of the oven did not compare to the warmth in my feet and gut. We pretended to work together as an excuse to get closer, him letting me help, me wanting to impress him. He told me cooking wasn’t hard, that all one had to do was follow the directions. I told him I was book smart but not cookbook smart. He laughed. We watched a show with sexual innuendos and commercials for natural male enhancement and laughed. In the meantime, we sat closer together until my right shoulder, arm, and leg was definitively against his left shoulder, arm, and leg. And at the end, a touch. Warmth from his fingertips to my leg and then tingles all over when his hand shifted. Awkward pauses at the door, what to do. Finally, a hug and a light brushing of the lips. A simple goodbye, though hopefully not for long.
I know he’s worried
about impending ice
I’m worried
about the inevitability of it
all
the end
and all the rest
I’m trying to catch the plane
train
to see her
before she goes
and the weather closes in
Ramblings of a Medicated Lady: Words of Woe by Loria Taylor 
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