I called to make peace, my head both raised and bowed in defense and apology Her words biting and wounded, "I think you're fake," She adds, "You're a fake ass bitch." I politely disagree. I attempt repair. I feel both scorned and pushed away. I feel defeat and self-protection. Years later, I wonder about her words. I decide that, maybe I am. You see, being nice isn’t always the answer. And I’ve learned that the hard way.
Author: restlesscrescent
I write when I feel. I write to release and to share. This is my poetry. Most hours I spend on others, listening while I work as a therapist. This is a space for me. I hope you enjoy the pieces of self I choose to share with you.
on regrets
I didn’t believe them when they said I’d regret; I’d build and we'll grow into twisted and tiny fragments of what came before. When I sit in pause they come to me in bursts and breezes I can regret and accept all in one breath.
butter and jam
At the counter a plate of eggs and sausage act as sides to the main act; Toast homemade jam butter spread thick, without apology As a child she added extra; lined each slice layered and thick Butter was her language of love Enjoy this without worry, her actions said Your body is perfect when its satiated sit here let me feed you I can hear her in every bite I see her hands in each layer I smile when a lot still isn’t quite right It’s only ever enough for her and for me when our hearts are full
or so they say
Isn't it often
told that love
finds us when we
are least expecting it
Like a crash landing
both expected and
surprising
they'll
stretch and look around
in both relief
and gratitude
Left with lingering
anxiety
intertwined with
excitement
I think of this narrative
with a half smile,
a small chuckle.
You see,
I know better than
to allow
or embrace
this serendipitous
storyline
Baby,
I carefully
and backbreakingly
built this ground
for years.
Horizon
Should I leave us
on that shore
with the imperfect shells
under our hardened feet
your hope matching
the aquamarine of
the gentle waves
mine hollow,
hidden
like the sun below
the separation
of sky and sea
(we jumped to
see its final rays
below)
In letting you go
I fear losing
healthy and
consistent
experiences
of love, perceived
(this loss feels paralyzing)
but if we
keep
on that
shore
jumping to see the
sun's descent
If I hold us
in that water
with the steady waves
and unfiltered sun
Perhaps it won't
be a loss at all.
Maybe its
always been
a gain
I'm not there, yet
the finality of
the goodbye
I still hold on
to memories like
they're fallible
like they are
at risk of
slipping away
if I don't focus
hard enough
But soon I know
it's coming;
the sun is setting
behind its
horizon line
and this time
I won't jump
to watch it
fall.
Garage
One night after
a day of
let downs and
all the rest
I parked my car
in its spot;
let the engine run.
I couldn’t
step out
or turn the
engine off.
You came running
down the stairs
to my door.
You reached in,
turned off the car,
guided me out.
I thought maybe
that could be
enough
Fleeting
yet powerful
moments of love.
Temporary
I so badly wanted it
to be you.
It was temporary.
We were, that is.
That made it
no less real.
I sure did
like to pretend,
though.
I held on
just in case
i was proven
wrong.
like me
I so desperately wanted to be liked that I became versions of myself So unlikeable So inconsistent People couldn’t understand couldn’t come to terms with who I even was At almost 30 I've decided that trying so hard to change the parts of me that are me is like asking a car to drive with no engine So I stopped trying to be likable I started to become Just that - nothing more and nothing less. I became. And when I stopped resisting all that I am I noticed how likable I became
Royale (clarity)
you consistently took pictures of me and of us and I'd smile and you'd lean your head towards my own I look at the ones from the Cove and the summer before your eyes are the clearest blue I always thought they would reveal, open I thought they'd let me in Opaque we are together and not in every photograph and I held on waiting for the clear imagining the moment you'd love me enough The clarity was never in the blue of your eyes or in our tent on the Isle it was always here in my knowing that we were temporary fleeting it's why i worked tirelessly to resist it to make us permanent but this wasn't some challenge or journey of worth this was simply two people intertwined in timing and love you were satisfied, content and I couldn't handle the truth in the opaqueness the reality that was right in front of me
quiet
I like him best while he plays his strings kisses my neck existing quietly, together Is that fair when so much of his energy is loud and bold sometimes I think the quiet of the last two years changed me even when I resented it.
The Restless Crescent 