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Intertwined.

There you are again, surrounding me,
showing up anytime you please.
Everywhere–materializing in the obscure,
bits and pieces of you embedded in the cracks.

There you are in my favorite book,
reading between my lines in a tactile manner.
And there, you’re a lyric of a brilliant song,
singing me everything I need to understand.
Over there. I find you smirking through
the steam of my mug of coffee,
reminding me of your warmth.

I find you in my dreams,
behind my eyelids,
on my skin, in my mouth.
Most of all, you emerge
from my pencil,
and I can’t keep you away.
You have a home on these
pages, spilling out each day,
in shapes and patterns from
the words I write for you.

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Plump Orange With Undertones Of Apple

I come in and drop my bags. We arrived. 2 cats and our little lady for a month long excursion in the city. Neither of us is really seeking to complete this, however, it has to be done. I come with low expectations-as lowering my expectations was a strategy I used to sustain what is left of a 20-year long relationship. Lower and lower expectations went to find a level which was feasible to hold a semblance of balance.

I find myself tidying up the place while the baby is out my teen- our teen, actually, but mostly “my” day to day teen over the last 17 years. My day to day baby-as in the youngest vs immature- day to day youngest child.

I pick up clothing spilling out of bags and luggage. I place dirty dishes in the sink in prep for the dishwasher. I toss a load into the washing machine-set boneless chicken in the fridge to defrost for dinner. Log onto my computer to work from home; I cannot help but to bring my multi tasking habits with me. I sure meant to, however, I know an argument will ensue if I do not appear to be above the high expectations still expected of me as a mom, a partner, a house guest. An Apple living in an Oranges home for the next 4 weeks.

Sitting underneath the lamp at a side table located adjacent to the 50” screen flat screen is a book I have used a resource to building healthy relationships, “5 Love Languages”. Quizzically, I review the book -is it real? I am considering this because my partner clearly is missing the point of the book to know one’s own love language in an effort to leverage that strength-that language- to actively engage in a meaningful manner with your partner.

Receiving gifts

Acts of service

Physical touch

Quality time

Words of affirmation

My #1 is Quality Time and #5 is Receiving Gifts. The exact opposite of my partner; per the book this combination is the hardest because the 2 people need to travel the farthest to get to a place of balance.

My possession of this knowledge has permitted me to give a pragmatic method to build strategies to have a semi-viable relationship.

Naïve at the time.

The book is not meant to be read alone; the challenges do not go away if only one person is the sole owner of the premise behind the 5 love languages.

My partnership has taken me to the point of desiccation where I have limited trust or reliability in this person. Where I now see this person and expect so little of him that a sur name and this last baby is what we share.

I have often thought that Gary Chapman needs to write a book titled, ‘Now that you are mature enough to be in a relationship- and have broken it-what can you do to get to center.’ Or a book called, ‘Were you ever at a center?’,  because I suspect that is where I am at now; a desiccated Apple partnered with a plump Orange w/ hints of Apple undertones.

 

 

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Ghar ke Kaam

in between washing the dishes
Ammi yells at me
curses her life
all I did was accidentally leave the
glass by the tv
I roll my eyes and lock myself in the bathroom
until she’s done the cooking in the kitchen
I come back outside
and plug my brain into the tv
so she can’t throw more side comments my way
Her anger is for me not becoming the person she wished I be
My anger is for her never defending me
but we push it down
we swallow it, chug it down like a bottle of whiskey
let the damage be done inside
all we notice is the burning madness
showing in our swollen eyes
from crying all night
from betrayal

 

Photography Credit: Chip Johnston

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Faded Shades of Life

Faded

Gone are the days when faded meant old;

Worn out, expired, out of touch;

When clothes had an expiring date;

Starting with the moment they get their first wash;

Things were only appreciated when they looked new;

Continue reading Faded Shades of Life

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Sick and Tired

I’m sick and tired of your games
Always guilt tripping me in passive aggressive ways
I’m sick of you invading my space
Please do me a favor and stay in your place
I’m sick of being asked one last chance
When in the end you leave with no trace
I’m sick of my chronic illness
That consumes my life forces away
I’m sick of being labeled as ungrateful
When all I did was sacrifice my life
I’m sick of the devil tempting me in so manys
Yet, I cry Lord have mercy on me for my sinful ways

 

 

 

__________________________

Photo Credit: Lanaya

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Since You’ve Been Gone

Lying on the carpet

the color deep sea

As my tears fall down my face

I don’t know if it’s from Adele’s angelic voice

or the fact that you’re not here anymore.

So I lie there, and I listen to Adele singing about

my broken heart

and I want to call you,

I want to tell you to come back,

even though I know you’ll hang up on me,

and tell me to move on.

So I listen to Adele

and I cry.

 

 

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Photo Credit: Jon Bright, Jr.