Posts Tagged ‘Heart Melting’


Even though it has been many years since we last talked and things didn’t exactly end well, not a day has passed that I have not thought about you. You were the first person I can honestly say I pictured spending my life with and I have so many wonderful memories of our time together. I wish I could go back and change things. I wish things I had worked out differently. And while I knew the time would come that you would find someone else and progress through the relationship stages with them, it doesn’t make it any easier. I sincerely wish you the best. I wish you knew how much I cared, how much you still mean to me, and how much you will always mean to me- it is a love that will never fade.


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When the pool of teardrops are in the corner of my eye, welling up with nowhere to go, it’s the thing that pushes one drop over the edge and onto my cheek, causing all the rest to overflow. It’s the thing that made me walk into the street without looking both ways. It’s the emotion that makes me come home and watch television alone so I don’t have to address the pit in my stomach that carries the weight of an infinite ancestral line of ache.

I want you to be a witness to my pain. I want you to acknowledge my misery. I want you to see the good and the bad of me. I want you to love me even in the deepest pit of my underworld journey.

There is something I cannot move beyond in the fact that you knew me and loved me before the innocence was sucked from my being. Before my energy was drained from my life force. It makes me think I will never be loved again the way you could have loved me. So purely and wholly. Before I was damaged. Love in innocence.

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this song is simply breaking my heart today.

unrelated to love letters perhaps, but it evokes every emotion ever.

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i have fought with myself over love.

i have fought to love–to love hard, to be free to love. i have wanted to love people who couldn’t love themselves. i have cared for their growth. i have tried to help them find themselves. i have loved when i could not be loved in return.

i have fought to keep my love silent for fear of being vulnerable and just another silly girl. i never wanted to be just a girl. i have goals and dreams and hopes for myself, and i’ve been taught that love and independence don’t mix. scratch that. not even love. relationships and independence don’t mix. after all, aren’t i supposed to trade my reproductive capacity for protection?

you. i want to rely on you. i want to depend on you. fuck this paradigm of diminishing co-dependency and elevating self-reliance. depending on you isn’t a weakness in me. it reveals all that we can and are willing to give to each other. i don’t want to be self-reliant. i want my health, my happiness, my life to be wrapped up in yours. i want to build something with you, for us to grow together, to nourish each other. we are better with each other. we are better on each other, in each other. through each other, we are better.

i cherish you, and i will fight for us.

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Once you dyed your hair purple and I got so mad at you. You and your dyed hair
and black fingernails and Camel Red Lights and black coffee and cheap whiskey.
I flipped out because you were hanging out with these friends who wanted to
control you – make you listen to this music, go these places, do these things,
and mostly stay away from me. They thought I was hurting you. After a while
you thought I was too – you forgot all about how you were asking for it by not
understanding that we were over. Even though we weren’t really over because
we were best friends. This sounds messy doesn’t it? Everyone was basically
right. But I was still so mad at you for letting them control you. Like a little puppy with dyed purple hair.

Now she’s controlling you – all these years later. You’ve traded in your hair dye
and whiskey and black nails for chinos and margaritas, your old rock bands for
jazz and country and Jimmy Buffett, your cigarettes for golf and cruises. You
were an artist, remember? You took pictures and painted and wrote songs. But
you’re not allowed to anymore. After a while you forgot that you wanted to do
those things. You’re so forgetful. You always have been.

I’ve known so many versions of you and there was one I loved so much, that
seemed so real. Before the purple-haired you. It was a sing-songing, beach-
walking, star-watching, show-going, picture-taking truck-driving magical you.
But were you just a mirror up to me? To show me what I liked? Like you were a
mirror for them then, and a mirror for her now? You know what? That breaks my
fucking heart.

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Passionate, aggressive sex with you over the last several weeks had given me a relentless yeast infection that burns and itches. Monistat suppositories have not helped and have caused more agony. I read up on natural remedies and then asked for your help when I found out about the magic that is apple cider vinegar.

Basically, for prevention and gentle soothing of yeast infections, you can take a lukewarm bath and pour a cup of organic raw apple cider vinegar in the water. But if you have crossed into the land of no return. If you are in agony like I have been and have not been getting any relief for over a week. You need to just pour that shit right on. It will not be pretty. Ow!

Here’s where you my beautiful man come in. We went to the grocery store at 11 o’clock at night to pick up the vinegar. Back at my apartment you changed into white t-shirt, shorts, and sports socks. Tired and ready for bed, you looked like a cross between a grandpa and a sexy sports coach. You had my small camping flashlight hanging by it’s rope around your neck. I couldn’t stop giggling nervously and putzing around my apartment like a putz.

You got impatient, “What’s wrong with you? Take your clothes off and get over here.” You patted the towel on the floor in front of the couch where you were sitting. I got down on my back, you took my legs up onto your thighs, and pulled me closer to you by my feet. “Are you ready?” as you turned on the flashlight, leaned down from the couch, and took a look at my angry vagina.

“Hmmm, it looks really red. You ready? Let’s get started.” You spent a half hour pouring apple cider vinegar all over my vagina and even in the hole. I could never have done it myself. It burned like a motherfucker and I would never have been able to get the perfect angle you did. You didn’t laugh. You weren’t grossed out. You were serious and nurturing and compassionate and gentle. We snuggled in bed afterwards. I never trusted or let anyone besides a doctor do anything like that to me before. The vulnerability was extreme.

I felt as safe and loved and partnered at that moment as if you had put a fucking diamond ring on my finger. I adore you.

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Does this count as a commitment? Does this make me your girlfriend even if you don’t know if you want to be my boyfriend? Should I think of you special friend, boyfriend, partner, lover, husband, man, or what.

1. I don’t want to have sex with anyone else.
2. I don’t want to kiss anyone else.
3. I don’t want anyone else to touch me naked.
4. I don’t want to sleep in the same bed with anyone else.


1. I want to touch your naked skin all the time.
2. I want to talk to you all the time, even late at night when I am tired, even when I am sick and feel awful.
3. I want to know that you are ok and people are treating you well.
4. I want to know so many things about you and show you so many things about me.
5. I want to tell you funny stories and hear you laugh and see you smile.
6. I want to be the one that notices how shy your face becomes sometimes.
7. I want to be the one that makes you happy and that you turn to in a room, in a crisis, in your best moments.

This counts.

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