Tag Archives: #divorce

My Hero

max be well my hero such

tiny arms could break like

shattered glass bleeding they still wrap

around me from me my body you are

me my son weak scared hurting stronger than

anyone for me love

he gives me unconditionally except when he doesn’t almost the

obstinence of a child, do you know?

 

killing me upon life birth hard heart rate erratic no one understood

what is wrong with her think think think the nurse i love said

scars with me for a life a

lifetime too death do us part but who

 

Mommy, i love that beautiful coat you wear

you are so beautiful to me

it makes me feel good when i see you in it

reminds me of our trip to Yosemite

I gush at my little hero as i look down at

my beautiful coat stained heavy with

tears and snout probably it is just an

old ragged sweatshirt i wear when i

feel so cold sick sad hiding under the hood

he snuggles into me my warmth building in us

both each others heros

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Stop thinking it’s all about you,

or your lover, because as much as it resembles others, it is just the imaginings in my head. This is my absolute truth:

Man Less of Me: http://wp.me/p57Qci-2p

It was written long before I even knew the name of any particular anyone who might think it’s all about them. I know haters are gonna hate, but I will just try my best to send out love, and my honest truth, as I wouldn’t want anything, for anyone(even haters), any other way.  I love to write, to straighten out my head, imaginations, subconscious, flaws and all, spilling into new realizations, for myself – Not anyone else.

Love, ME

 

 

Honesty and Neigh-Neigh-lover helps

I’ve got to be honest, i just don’t get it, you. Why can’t my husband just talk to me about his feelings honestly, reveal his true self? At least to just me, I mean, if he is not talking to his wife, who is he talking to? I guess this is my essential problem in my marriage, we are not living, or more precisely loving, honestly. Do you love honestly? I have reached a point when it is too difficult to live any other way.

 

Unless, if I really try hard to be happy, be who you want me to be, I could be yours. What character would you have me play? What type of words do you like to hear? Knowing exactly where I stand, your hand on me and looking into my eyes telling me, how should I be, feel, taste nothing sounds good unless you give me your words to feel first. I really am new at this, clueless really…

 

“Ok,” he finally said under pressure, “I will leave,” the fear came up through my body and I grabbed my yoga mat making my way to the door. Be calm, calm, calm my heart. He was yelling at me about his time, how he works so hard for the family and i do nothing but lay in bed all day. He used to call me names about the way I looked, belittle me about my abilities as a mother, until I finally got a job I was happy with… Dear god, I have become my grandmother, abused by a sociopath, but I loved my grandfather, and I lost my job. “Fine, instead of writing and meditating all day start doing it, dividing our assets!” shaking his fist at the minivan, me in reverse, as if there is anything to divide. But my real fear is that he has been stashing things away in his own name, i wonder for how long, and if his mother is involved.

 

I want to say “You can stay in the other room as long as you can be kind,” but instead my words just keep prodding, telling him to just tell me the truth. Not that I want to hear about whether he actually had sex with her, how many times, where, but maybe just a little. The last time this happened, when he finally broke and realized I really did know, we had the best, most emotionally unattached sex ever; and cried, and saw a therapist who convinced me that we really could forgive and live in love together. I went against my better judgement.

 

For too long, I didn’t listen, want to know the truth; but why didn’t you just tell me. Why couldn’t you have the strength to say real words. I guess I remember once you pouting about all sad, listening to me crying and feeling so alone beside you at night, not touching me. The next morning I drove out to your bike race in the vineyards above Napa, and you coyishly talked about your dreams for a new road bike; it’s what all the guys are riding, upgraded to all dura ace. I should’ve instead bought more bubbles from Domaine Chandon, another case or two, sharing it with the real men who rode all over those caves. I wonder how they make it, love, the wine.

 

I was on top for the next few years, and I wanted children, times were good, we were happy i thought. Still, I felt a hesitation. Why didn’t I listen to that voice inside my head, why didn’t I believe you, my own fucking heart.

 

Break the house in two, like the Roses did, I can see how it happens now, so sad. Is it all about power and control, do you think? But what I really need to say, (or perhaps neigh-neigh friend can tell her husband words to sooth mine’s mind and restless soul) is that we need to remove him from the title, pool all our resources, and when we are ready we can qualify for some sort of moderate-income housing, in his name, of course. But where we can both, BOTH and not together, go to when we are not with the kids. It doesn’t have to be big, a little pied-de-terre, if you will. It could even be a nice walking area of town… I know I am getting ahead of myself again, I am so bad about that, but I think we need to be on a happy path, bright future for our kids; DO NOT divide and conquer each other, ourselves, our children’s hearts… if I could just find the words between the argument, between us. Must I seduce you into agreement? Use my mystical powers of persuasion? I fear yours maybe too rough.

The Art of Making WINE

In Santa Barbara

There I was, talking to my dream man, elbow up to the wine bar, listening enraptured to his story of helping others, all his good deeds. He is tall and lean, toe-headed like my first love, but good-incarnate. His heart is always in the right place and he knows how to use it, if you know what I mean. Our kids would look the same. I could fall so hard for him, I don’t think I would recover. He is one of the good guys, i hope, so I am sure my heart would be in good hands; All heart and hands, he is, my dream man, touching me softly, holding me firmly.

 

From now on I am only talking to the good guys, my guy, one I would be willing to call my own. Don’t assume it’s you. I am realizing, just now in my life, that I know who you are. And sometimes I fear my husband has plotted with his mother to knock me off; get off my fucking rocker, right? Like how did I know it was you, I still don’t, but I have already started morning my sanity. I’ve found myself though, and I am on guard and kicking him out of the bed tonight. Back to his room he goes with his mother and father on the plane. So, if you are one of those bad guys, stop reading right now. Go back to counting your money, plotting your extractions, dealing in blood.

 

I have met the bad guys

and I fear he is one of them

all that matters is money

but the problem is, it’s not only my husband

it’s the people who are elbowing out the scientists to be afraid of

are you listening because i need somebody to love and do and be just with

they use us all

that inside of us thing

whose name i won’t say

to justify anything

 

So there is this dreamy man to be cast

beside my body, my dream

head of the richest foundation but he lives that not

they only give to all the left hand free

causes of my heart

so it would seem

 

but what if he had a secret

and it was in the wine of Santa Barbara alone

I could write it, you see

and another man, too, i think you know who

an epic of sexual puns and affairs of the heart

broken and sad, but a comedy about my home, divorce, love actually

real meaning and sadness and life and death and sex and shit is what i write about, love

love and wine and women and men

you cooking for me

in every room of the house

doing whatever it is we do

 

They can justify anything, I fear, in the name of god. And by anything, i mean just that. They might use the hands of others, the hands of gods handle life and death matters, of course you know; But it would be just they would say, claim, pay you to think. It’s black friday and all.

Really I would ask you if we could touch and breathe into our hearts together as one. It is so bright in here, i need to hear your words to know the truth.

 

Instant Winemaker Needed

I have just aquired an unexpected lot of fruit and want to start making wine with it right away before you spoil, see the Emergency Guide on page 173.

 

I am just a woman, Chumash, and men from the ships always need help. It could be old school like that, the wine-making, love, or just the comedy.

 

p.173

Before it spoils, I mean. Are you an enologist, internationally known? Then i think you can help with the paddle, push down, reach deep, rhubarb wine recipe on page 69.

Wine narrowly defined means only the fermented juice of the vinafera grape, but like Dionysus is Bacchus, love is wine, wine making love, love making wine.

 

p.s. Sometimes when I write You, I mean Me, my intuition, my heart, my love, if you know what i mean, you can keep reading, love me.

 

p.s.s. I need a good pro bono divorce attorney, please.

Everything You Always Wanted to Know about Sex* But Were Afraid to Ask…

It was his choice, but still, I worry about my husband…and Man! Am I glad they don’t make those things ‘plug-in’ anymore! Ya gotta watch the clip until the end to get that… right, ladies?

But back to my first thought: Naturally, I still have feelings for my husband, even after he found his Daisy; Feelings of concern and caring about his mental health, also of disgust and anger about his despicable decisions. It comes down to emotional intelligence, perhaps, and maybe that is why we see more men who cheat than women. I don’t know about that statement, it doesn’t really make sense, as it takes two to ‘cheat’ on your spouse. So, I guess it means men cheat on more occasions, and they share the same pool of fewer women who cheat? It sounds like I said ‘pool of sheep’ but that is just too apropos.

I was recently doing some light reading, and some heavier reading, and some LunchBox Science reading, and I have concluded that my Daisy should really be a Prairie Vole, and I’ve named him Duke. Are your genes coded correctly? Do you live on a prairie? Do you like to dig-deep, nest and explore? Then ravage me now. Over here, my potions will be under the pillow, in case your genes need re-coding.

What do ewe think about the whole evolutionary psychology thing? Or how about all those sexual puns!? How great are those!?! 🙂

Best Match/ Man-friend Survey #1

Please answer honestly, there is no such thing as a wrong answer.

Any friend may take the survey, no matter your persuasion, gender, preference, etc. Leave your answer and responses, short or long, in the comments.

When I say, “Not tonight, honey, I’m not in the mood,” your first response is:

a. “Well, no coffee for you in the morning, Fridge!”

b. “Hmm…” then dreamily, “can I spoon you to sleep, beautiful?”

c. “Just call me when you’re in a good mood.”

d, “Well, you should want it, it would be good for you!”

e. “I understand,” touching me gently still, kissing my shoulder, “can I read some to you? from my book or yours?” ahmmm… You hear me respond to your words, slowly coming closer at each breath, wrapping my body around yours. Starting at the toes then ankles working my way up, my hand on your bare stomach, matching each of your parts to mine from the side up til my head rests low on your chest. This is not where I saw this going, but I changed my mind, my heart, in the last answer. Cuddling into your warmth and feeling your hum inside my body bare.

What do you say?

PS – This piece is embarrassingly dedicated to my neigh-neigh-loving, Ewe know who you are friend, and anyone else in our lit-ladies club who may have found me out. PLEASE, I implore, beg, bribe you with fine wine, keep my secrets confidential, all of them – true or not you can’t say – do not tell anyone, anyone at all, but most particularly the men in our ‘club’, as i can think of nothing worse than thinking they know about the twisted way my head bends. And really, seriously, I need to feel anonymous to write in such a personal way, for my own safety from scary haters. So sorry, if you do know, feel no need to discuss with me, I will see it in your eyes, anyway, and it would be so uncomfortable. Thank Ewe for the fun survey idea, I hope I will figure out your identity here(give me a sign?), too, and you can respond to the survey… Look for more fun Best Match Man-friend questions coming soon. Ewe are a good friend:)

email me any of Ewe: mariescottnot@gmail.com