I don’t love him.
I told him that.
He pretended not to hear.
I was almost relieved.
We have two children,
a house, a home.
Jobs, friends, hobbies,
but I feel so alone.
It’s too easy to stay,
too damn hard to leave.
He deserves better than me,
and I deserve to be free.
For eight years now,
I’ve been existing, not living.
Like many others,
just going through the motions.
But is it so wrong,
to want to love
and to be loved?
To want to hold,
and to be held,
The family is nearly grown now,
and something has to change.
Do I go east, or do I fly west?
I have no life compass yet.
I’m just here, waiting…
for the storm to begin.
Maybe it will blow me in the right direction.
Maybe it will show me the way not to hurt people.
Maybe I will learn how to live happy again.
To live, and not just exist,
is how I want to write my future story.
A Happy Ending…
is that possible, any more?
Lately I have been feeling extremely down and melancholy. With no obvious reason. Or so I thought; until last night I dreamt of someone I loved. Someone from my past.
A boy I knew from my youth. You could say he was, and still is, the love of my life. I still remember his birthdate. It’s the same as mine. I can almost recall his features. I know where he lived, and the names of his family members. I still feel sad when I remember that I will never see him again.
In my dream I saw him so clearly. I asked my friend to take a photo of him, because I didn’t want to forget his face. Again. I seem to be forgetting his face over the years.
I met him through a boyfriend. He lived in the same street, and they were friends. One day he came knocking on the door, and when our eyes met, I knew. THIS was love. That feeling you get when nothing else matters. Just like in those old movies, or in heart-stopping romances, like Wuthering Heights. He knew my thoughts, he finished my sentences, we had an almost supernatural connection. But I wasn’t free. One night I was visiting the boyfriend, but he wasn’t back from work. The boy saw me, and asked me if I wanted to walk with him. It felt wrong, but so right at the same time. So we walked, and walked on, a very long way. Suddenly, he took my hand, and I felt at home. We talked about everything, and decided that I would tell the boyfriend, and then we would wait a respectable amount of time, before being together properly.
I finished with the boyfriend, and it was sad, but it was the right thing to do. Then I waited.
But what I was waiting for never came. He was killed in a traffic accident. He was riding his motorbike too fast. Of course he was. He was always a thrill seeker. That’s why I loved him.
Over the years I have had many, many dreams about him. He’s always elusive in them, always slightly blurry. Always out of my reach. And it still makes me sad, over twenty years later.
A lot of people might say you should be over it by now. You’d think, wouldn’t you? But some people stay in your hearts I guess, and no matter how much growing up you do, they remain there.
Happy Birthday to you, my darling memory…
wherever you are.
Once we loved
from far away,
and couldn’t wait to meet.
Love breathed in on the wings of the wind.
You were the one,
that came along,
to heal me,
and to save me.
The future was of love and beginnings.
But as the years passed,
and our children appeared.
Love began to stray.
We never agreed,
often at opposite sides,
of the life we share,
although separately told.
Love chose another way.
No heartful joy.
Love simply gave it away.
The wind of change came,
and in it’s cruel wake,
took the love we once had,
and blew it 10,000 miles away.
Never to return.
Never to repair.
Never to be there,
on the wings of the wind.
I awoke from a dream in the night,
It was terrifying and bizarre.
A woman I knew from work had invited me to lunch at her home.
It was a large, beautiful house. Newly built and
designed by her and her husband.
She had three young boys. They were all playing in the house.
Fighting and bickering, and showing off, as boys do.
She was a handsome and clever woman. I admired her,
praising her house and her children.
We drank too much wine, and giggled as we ate lunch.
Then, out of the blue, her husband returned.
Grinning, in the shadows of the corridor..
He looked at me leeringly, and suddenly lunged forward.
His hand shot down my blouse, feeling my breast.
I can still feel the shock at this.
“You did well!” He congratulated his wife. “This one’s classy”.
They both looked at me weirdly, almost licking their lips in anticipation.
I felt numb, not knowing what was going on,
but I knew I had to get out of there, fast.
I saw the glint of a knife behind his back.
As he moved towards me, I grabbed the empty wine bottle.
Smashing it over his head, I ran for the door.
It was bolted. I managed to get it open just as he grabbed at my shoulder.
I screamed “Let me go, you bastard!”. And fell out into the street.
Neighbours came out of their homes, curious and unknowing.
“They’re crazy!” I shouted. “He’s got a knife. Call the Police!”
They didn’t seem to believe me, and tried to lead me back to the house.
Then I saw a large pit slowly opening up, right in the driveway.
Inside, were decapitated heads and body parts of young women,
just lying there, inside a flat, rusty, metal cage.
Then a lift magically appeared to my left, and I jumped in.
An old man was waiting in there.
He told me that I could escape from the evil ones,
but that I would have to take the lift to another dimension.
I could never return to my own world.
They began hammering on the glass doors of the lift.
Waving knives and axes, and their eyes were glowing red.
I pressed the button, and we shot up high into the air,
the speed made me sick.
Then I awoke, shaking, disorientated, and relieved.
I know this was just a dream, but I have been talking a lot about domestic abuse, (of which I am a survivor), and the film/book 50SOG recently, so I wonder if it’s brought the bad stuff back to me. I used to have a LOT of nightmares involving my Ex, but it seemed to have got less over the last few years. It just shows you – you never really forget. Either that, or I ate some very bad cheese last night!
Thanks for reading.
I loathe my own birthday.
They don’t understand.
Just forget it, I tell them.
They shrug it off, and still plan.
It always reminds me,
of the dear ones I miss.
Of those that departed,
and good times long gone.
I’m not my real self here,
I never can be.
So leave me alone please,
It’s MY birthday you see.