Baptism

Remove every strip of who I was

release me from my broken mind

this body holds more anguish than I care to admit

Wash it all away and let me begin again

Who I was is not who I am

my mistakes make me stronger, smarter, better

your Love passes over my being like a wave of fire

Wash it all away and let me begin again

Clear soul, heart, mind, and conscience now

I present to you my bare naked flesh

be careful with my wounds for some of them still bleed

Wash it all away and let me begin again

Take me in your arms, show me Comfort

Take me in your heart, show me Love

Take me in your mind, show me Trust

Wash it all away and let me begin again

Brunch

He climbs into her car and inhales her sweet body splash. The adrenaline rush from sneaking around makes them both shake as they embrace.

“We have to leave, we can’t stay here she’s shopping nearby. Let’s go.”

The driver takes off to the motel as he pulls together the cash he carefully squirreled away without his wife’s notice. They only have a few hours together and can’t waste a second, so the typical area traffic makes them both even edgier.

“Two hours please” she says as they grab the room key. The place is what you expect, a shitty roadside motel. The kind of place built for affairs and day hookers.

The room itself is gross but they don’t care. They have been talking, dreaming, writing about this moment for over a year and won’t let anything ruin it. It’s not about the room, their spouses, or anything else other than their own passion and desire.

The hours fly by as they entwine themselves with reckless abandon. Not a care in the world as they shower off the stench of their betrayal. He texts his wife as they leave and head to the diner for their cover story.

They cuddle up in a booth, play footsie, kiss, and chat. Relive the memory of their deepest darkest secret, the one they will take to the grave. He knows her husband won’t stand for this, even if caught he’ll deny this ever happened. He must protect her and this at all costs, even if it means he loses his wife, he cares not.

No one will ever know the details, even they will have different versions of the same stolen moments. However I like to think that the reality of the story, is far more scandalous than I could ever dream up.

Tied

Tattered and tangled I pull from my pocket

A length of string, but don’t know where I got it

Red in color and as thin as a hair

You almost can’t see it, but I know it’s there

It twists and it turns before kinking in knots

Still have trouble keeping it from my thoughts

Impossible to release and unable to forget

The ending of this story seems to me: dead set

Press me for details and none you will get

For I have secrets here that are too delicate

Sharing with you just doesn’t make sense

I’d rather be elsewhere, please don’t take offense

For that string in my pocket is fit to be tied

And the other end I know I must find

Destiny and Love might await my arrival

But to be truthful I’d be content with survival

I’ll take up this voyage, and set my course

Untangle the line, and discover it’s source

My Love I am coming, it’s frightfully true

There is nowhere to hide, “I’ll find You”

The Wound

First time I anticipated the cut and saw the steel of the blade before it ever pierced the skin

The second time I was not so lucky,  it entered next to the first while that one was still barely stitched together

One puncture was now two gaping holes, and neither one given any time to heal like it needed

I was undeserving of medical care and left alone to lick my gashes, given salt from time to time to remind me

Years passed in the same cycle: pick till it bleeds, rub, pain, remember your mistake, punish yourself

Over and over again until the scar still shows the thick keloiding that comes with a repeated assault

A reminder so large now that there is no way to ignore it and no way to pretend you don’t know what caused it

The size and shape make it clear to all those who glimpse it what came before, and how I healed it

The horrors that brought that reminder, the actions of mine that brought on the attack and how I felt I deserved it

I remember every moment in exquisite agony every time I pick at it, I punish myself by making it bigger, adding to the layers of scar tissue

But no more, today I have finally been given the tool needed to lop off the entire scar

It will cut deep into my skin and free me from the prison of my own obsessive need to relive the trauma

This is the chance to finally let go of the raised ugly scar and behaviour that imprisons me

It will be a painful complicated surgery without anesthesia, going possibly down to the bone

Every possible bit of scar tissue will be removed, no chance taken this time with the proper doctor in tow

Surgery will leave a permanent mark but this scar will be different, stitched together with precision and given the proper aftercare

Allowed to heal the right way, in a calm relaxing environment and with an attentive nurse to watch over my progress

I’ll trade the old complicated oozing scar that plagued me, for a deep red line across my heart

You’ll still be able to see the scar, but now you’ll see the aftercare and love that proper healing brings to a wound of this nature

I’ll be able to display this badge of courage as a reminder of the unconditional love that fixed it, rather than the evil that caused it so long ago

Sea Glass

Tall violent waves crash onto the black sand shores of your lashes as I set sail once more, this time in a gale so great I risk both our lives

The seas I’ve become a master of exploring are calling my name again, and I can’t deny the siren’s song as it beckons to me

I’ve charted what I thought was every nautical mile in that expanse of wilderness, but still there’s more there than before

A new island on the horizon, one brought forth as only land masses can be: By great violence of the earth

The plates heave and press against one another causing quakes and fissures, all while underwater volcanoes erupt, spewing molten rock and smoke into the air

I know someone has been here before me but I do not care, they were not the dedicated explorer I am, and I will not give up so easily

Not because I’m the best one to do it, not because I’m the most intelligent, or even the most talented one to try, but because I am made for the job

Every failure has taught me a lesson for the journey, opened my eyes and put a brand new tool in my kit, giving me strength

It’s my passion, it’s my life’s work, it’s my purpose in this life and I refuse to give into failure, the potential reward is greater than any of the most precious gems

“Do you know even what you were looking for?” I whisper to the wind as I leave the comfort of the dock

Rain pours down in large droplets all around our vessel, and the smell of cooling lava tells me exactly what direction in which to head

Those dark amber pools flickered with bright shots of gold and red, the dark brown smoke around each, and the deep black portals might scare you, but I see the future…

… and I am not scared.

Small Miracles

A small shout out to my Fairy Godmother, Frigg, whomever… thank you.  Sometimes you get so busy with your life’s journey that you forget there are side quests to be completed.

Months ago this blog was set up to be a writing space for my husband and I to work on our marriage and our book, but as soon as the ink dried on my account my husband decided to walk away.

Not just from the book, or the blog, but from the marriage as a whole. I was shocked, but it wasn’t deterred.  Rather than just revel in my own pity, I decided to make the most of this and write about the deterioration instead.

Well, thank you world for the slap in the face I needed. Thank you for showing me how far away from my center I was, and thank you for giving me the opportunity to grow and learn from it, no matter how painful it has been.

In the last several months I have been on a journey, and I am still in its midst. I am growing beyond the cocoon of trauma I was forged in… and the results must now be visible to others.

How can I tell? I just lived a small miracle… my husband said to me on Sunday “you know we should really write that book”.  And I’ve never been happier… or more terrified.

hes-not-wrong-you-know

The Letter

My Dearest,

You always write for me, but I have never really returned the favor to you. In small ways I’ve written a few things, way way back… but you deserve so much more than that. I have been a shitty wife for several years, and I want to acknowledge and formally apologize for treating you terribly. There was a long time where I forgot just how amazing you are, and what my priorities are.  I will work daily to ensure that I never take you and our love for granted again.

I’m sorry for hiding my hurt behind anger, one-upmanship has been a never ending cycle of who can hit the hardest and we both lose.

I’m sorry for putting you at the bottom of my priority list time and time again. You should have always been at the top, and very often you were at the bottom.

I’m sorry for cutting you down and not being in your corner always. My low self-esteem makes me want to cut you down so you won’t realize you are so much better than I.

I’m sorry for neglecting our time and our sex life. I got so busy dealing with everything else that I forgot how necessary it is for both our moods and marriage.

I’m sorry for not attending his services. I will never be able to go back and push harder to take the time, I only hope I can help you continue to grieve.

I’m sorry for my family and what it has done to us. I am working every day to be further and further away from them and to add more close friends to my circle.

I’m sorry for being fake and letting myself get so wrapped up in shit that I didn’t even realize I didn’t care about.

But most of all, I’m sorry I hurt you and made you feel lonely in your own home. No one ever deserves that.

I hope that my continued growth as a person is still someone you want to be married to every year from here on out. I will just be me, and treat you the way you should be treated by a wife that adores you. That is proud to say she is married to you. A wife that puts her man in his place when he needs it, but only behind closed doors. Who holds him up and falls into his arms just as easily.

I LOVE YOU

Always yours… Mrs. Chrysalis