Sad Flowers - 10thDoM The Language of Bouquets

There are some days when I look at the online newspaper of the city I lived in for 10 years, and my stomach cramps. There are parts of me that long to be there, that miss my house, my friends, my gym, my comfortable life. I still own a house there. I can't get rid of it.

There are days when I think of the drive between my house and my kids' school. The drive that took me through some of the least desirable parts of town and where I passed a strip club, open, with cars in the lot, at 7:45 am... On a Tuesday. And I miss even that drive.

I miss being married, in a marital relationship, in a comfort zone of knowing when and where the next paycheck was coming from. I don't miss when he was home. There were more times when I felt like a stranger in my own house when he was there than I felt comfortable. The comfort was in his absence. Thankfully, he was absent a lot. Sadly, it was not enough.

There are days when I romanticize the tumultuous, horrible relationship I got into after I left one bad situation. I went from very bad to worse than I could have ever imagined. But he was so beautiful. And caring, and thoughtful, and kind, and he was my friend and confidante... Until he wasn't.

There are days that I wake up in the same room I spent 14 of my earliest years and wonder if I should have just stuck it out, if the comfort was worth the apathy, the passive-aggressive put downs, the lack of love, the sadness. He was happy, he said. He shed tears.

I miss the times before we married. Before he told me he didn't love me and wanted a divorce... On our honeymoon. Before he refused to be my shoulder when my mom died or ever thereafter even after begging... For 6 years. Before he told me he hated basically everything I loved... Which were the things he loved about me before he "owned" me.

There are days I remember our Olive Garden Fridays. Always the same Olive Garden. Always the same hostess. Always the same mispronunciation of our last name, Payton, not Patton. Where we would talk and laugh and plan our lives and how we would grow old and be together forever. Before he let me know he thought I would change if I married him.

There are days I remember the diamond heart necklace on our first Valentine's Day. He came up behind me and put it on me as I was talking to my roommates. They thought I was so lucky. And then I remember the first flowers I ever got on Mother's Day, my 7th Mother's Day. The Mother's Day after I told him I was leaving. He didn't even know what kind of flowers I like. But at least they weren't pink roses.

The Key - 10thDoM Right of Qi

The right key
does not hold
the qi you seek

On the left
there is right
And right qi

Vitality rides
on your say
and three days

might kill me
Or cure me
of life.

Capricious Capricorns - 10thDoM RoM Sleep Deprived in Sagittarius

You, you, you.
Are you falling into me?
Like I fell into you?
And wishing you were mine.
Fighting and lighting.
Lifting and sifting.
Falling and calling.
Texting and sexting.
Find me, please.
On my floor.
Skin and bones.
From what you made of me.
Bleeding from the gums.
Vomiting all I can't eat.
Capriciously being the Capricorn that doesn't make sense.
Astrologically confused.
Since I was supposed to be a Sagittarius anyhow.
Married to a Scorpio.
Loving a Virgo.
Daughter of Leo and Libra.
Dreaming of a Capricorn.
With cusp children to confuse me even more.
I've got a bullheaded twin.
And a sunny thinker.
As if their circumstances weren't enough to make them seem strange.
To all but me.
To you.
When you see them.
Sun and moon.
Dark and light.
Tan and bright.
Strong and weak.
But beautiful, both.
When you see them.
You know.
You.
Know.
It's that time of year.
Again, it has reared its head.
But insomnia has come back early this year.
And the sadness.
The sad disease.
It is taking over.
My bones.
Will not stay.
Not for you.
Or you.
Or you.
Or you.
Just you.
And you.
You.

Life's Left - 10thDoM RoM An Extraordinary Discomfort

You.
You.
You.
It wasn't that long ago that life left me where I stand.
In the shadows of your words.
And worlds.
Where wishes live less freely than the airplanes they're made on.
But the spice and space were founded in those times.
When you were but nice.
The few and far.
Between me and you.
The passion between me and you.
Leads to an equal and opposite reaction.
Extraordinary in its discomforting gaze.
As I was frayed, torn and tattered, and ripped.
Into shreds I found myself worn, wan for your threads.
You.
Your threads.
Your bed.
Your moves.
Your strong stance.
Your dark empty glance.
Wondering where you are in there.
Wandering around in there.
Pleading as I stood on your stairs.
You just stare.
Uncomfortably numb.
It’s amazing how extraordinarily discomforting those eyes have become.
As you raise your gaze.
And ask me rhetorical questions.
Which I answer.
Because I don’t know questions are rhetorical.
But they are to you.
And you.
And you.
And everyone else it seems.
Except me.
Just you.
You.
And I left you where my life left.
On the stairs.
In that strangely clean apartment.
On the Main Street in our town.
Where I slid to the side.
And I was hit blind.
But it was better that way.
Losing a life in a few minutes.
Losing a friend.
Losing you.
Because you can’t see anything but yourself.
When you look in the mirror.
Just you.
You.
And you.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.

UAE - 10thDom RoM Fariq's Final Fantasia

You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
And you'd have me climb, climb, climb.
All the mountains you'd push me to fall.
Fall.
Fall.
Isn't it funny, that final failing?
For all the fluctuating, vacillating, obliterating you're phoning them in.
Was it fun, finding that fountain of earth.
Funneling from the ground.
Reaching the sky, not really.
From a peak in your final frontier?
Fly down Fujairah.
Were you there, Jabal Fariq?
Fuck fantastic fantasy fairies for fun, and profit.
Theirs, the profit.
Were you there, Jabal Fariq?
Finding friendly females feigning for funds for a fuck?
And you were willing.
Because, we've already found.
It's all about you.
You.
You.
You.
You.
Find yourself flailing, now do you?
Find yourself failing, now you do.
Flat out for you.
It's all about you.
And you.
And you.
And you.
And you.
And the five others you found from the fuck friend channels.
Because, for the final frame, it's forever for you.
You.
You.

Long Ago - 10thDoM RoM A Legacy of Smoke and Shadow

It wasn't that long ago that I saw your face for the first time.
At least, not that long in the history of man.
And it wasn't that long ago that I wished that your eyes would see my face too.
But then I'd look away.
Pretend I didn't see you seeing me.
I would undo that first kiss, that first lisp, that first...
Well, everything.
I wished for you on stars and clouds and airplanes at night.
Because I didn't know better.
You were shadows.
I was smoky.
You said so.
And I heard you.
I was for play.
Foreplay.
Falling apart at my seams, so it seems.
And you were so good with needle and thread.
Weaving in and out of my life and even me.
At will.
Your will.
Not mine.
Don't you remember the first last time?
The first completion.
The last time.
With her listening from above and us listening from the next room.
That's our legacy.
There's always a first last time.
For you to sing that first last line.
That I never want to hear.
You're a tune I can't leave.
Stuck on repeat.
You.
Repeat.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
Me.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
You.
It's all about you, isn't it darling?

Night Swim - 10thDoM Beneath the Pools of Another Moon

It's a new year, and Jelly is back and... Well, probably not better than ever but not too much worse for the wear.

silver shine across lithe long parts
lines of luminescence linger and then fall,
but the eyes stay where the paths traced
down the gentle sways and curves

cool air smiles upon her limbs
and the favorite parts of men, obviously so,
a vision in the night, art meets reality
so easily, the eyes must stay

alabaster skin beneath ebony hair
hazel eyes aglow, reflecting your own face
gaze seized and then caught, a smirk
crawls across lightly pinked lips

fine fingers flicker cerulean strands
toes curl and massage the grit of tiny sands
sweet laughter saunters in, killing silence
and drums beat heavily inside this night