15th May - An ending defined

I have been dismembered today, the kind of force that sweeps through you, leaving nothing but a skeleton. I don’t know why I am breathing, I only think it is breathing as my lungs are filled up with poison, and my abdomen wound so tightly that a chisel could not break through it.

It’s the kind of feeling brought about by those fateful words relating to a death. Grieving takes on many forms, it can be the death of a family member, a friend, or just an acquaintance but sometime we forget that this rocket hits you also when you end a relationship. In my case, I was doing relatively OK until my former partner told me that she had slept with other people in the course of our break up, one liaison as recently as last week.

To dismantle a soul like mine needs a tough stance. I have seen so much horror in my days that I could say that I had experienced most, and on some occasions more than others. But today, my displacement comes from the thought of a person who I still love being touched intimately by another human. One of them was even a man, and to a lesbian, sometimes that can be abhorrent.

Wouldn’t it be easier to hate, and want to destroy this enemy in the clutches of my heart? To wreak havoc upon them and try to make them experience the numbness and insipid taste in my mouth, and make their heart beat so hard that it seems as it’s on the table in front of her. I am so diluted, weakened by my love that I feel compassion and longing. I want back those good feelings I had just a few weeks ago, when everything around me was dancing in a pale light, it seemed only we could see. Now there is only betrayal and a foul stench where my trust and respect has quickly decomposed.

The woman mainly touches with her heart and when you have an intimate moment with a her, it comes from a place that is usually deeply buried and so you feel enamoured when it is exposed to you. This I believe is the connection between lesbians, that men can never taint. I am still connected, but in pulling back the line, I have found a tether, shredded and released in haste without care, almost callous in its conception. I may bleed to death, unnoticed. And when the blood is gone, all that will be left is a question drizzling from my heart: Why?

I believe a great release would be to cry, to provide an oasis for my grief but I am dried up and spent and feel nothing that is clear.

I want nothing more than to bathe in the warm rays of an unconditional love and attraction, to be settled in my emotional boat and drift purposefully and calmly across a inviting sea filled with invited but unknown creatures to sooth and comfort my journey.

But, instead, I am in a black desert, scraping around alone and unsupported, trying to escape the hurt I feel and make this sickness cease, just so I can feel conscious again.