Wasted Wishes 

Wasted wishes fall on deaf ears, there is nothing that can be done about his demons and I am hostage. 

Wasted wishes keep me awake at night and fill my growing body with unnecessary calories. Feed a broken soul.

Wasted wishes leave me alone with the exception of my loving dogs and I thank heaven for their love.

Wasted wishes are anxiety, panic and fear. 

Wasted wishes are life wasted.

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Safety, I Scream

Each night the demons return, they scream and grip at my throat

Daylight, they hide in my head and heart. My body has become their cocoon.

I’ve done nothing so terrible to deserve this existence 

Spending each day repenting for sins others have committed leaves me exhausted

Bottles of different colored remedies do little for they cannot control my external life. 

Safety, I scream!

Is this what Almost Over feels like?

He comes over and I chatter away nonstop 

He makes himself comfortable and the dogs greet him with a luxury of kisses

I suggest dinner and a movie, as we had planned but he says that he is not hungry but that I should order

He mentions money, that he needs to watch his – I do not need to watch mine. I attempt to diffuse any concern but can hear the wind steal my words.

He smokes in the bathroom, the “allowed spot” as it is raining outside. He spends too much time up and down between the sofa and the bathroom.

We have good conversation. Meaningful positive talk about family and emotions but remain distant. 

Distant both physically and emotionally.

I order in dinner and he spoons out some peanut butter. The dogs begin to eat and I believe that things are calm.

Before my food can arrive he requests that I call an Uber car for him to go back to his parent’s house. 

I ask that he please wait for my food to arrive, that he need not sit with me, and he begrudgedly agrees.

I smile and order his car, pretending that there is no problem. 

He tells me:

• that he is worried about his father’s health.

• that he is worried about his health

• that he is afraid that if he stays any longer he will screw things up

Then he tells me how he’s certain that I will hold this against him later; I smile (holding back my true feelings) and tell him that everything is fine.

I wonder what he thinks…

Are we married for convenience? 

A failsafe for when his parents pass away? 

Does he even feel anything romantic towards me? 

Is this what ALMOST OVER feels like? 

When neither of us has the nerve to say: “Let’s be best friends?“.

Terminal Grief

I have never been cured of my terminal grief

Each time that I believe that there is any chance, life kicks me in the teeth. 

I will never get over the loss of my father.

I will never get over the loss of my sister, Faith.

And now I add that I will never get over the loss of my fake family. 

I’ve been fooled and betrayed, the pain cuts through my soul. I should have know better, my father warned me and I failed to listen.

My failures add up so high that the sun is no longer visible from where I sit. 

My two sweet dogs keep me together when I drop to my knees. 

Meanwhile, my estranged husband works on my emotions day and night, never allowing me any time to heal.

Terminal grief does not kill, it is not lethal. 

It simply leaves you hollow and wondering for the rest of your days.

I Can’t Sleep

It’s the deep middle of the night and my mind is at full speed despite all of the medication. 

Do I take more little pills, feed the problem or suffer, unable to keep the wheels still? 

On the sofa with my dogs, my bed is not a comfort, the television is white noise. 

Questions pour from my brain that have no answers. My monsters and demons taunt me at nearly 5:00am. 

I haven’t the concentration to read, or connect to anything other than my spinning thoughts. 

I can’t sleep, cursing the coming dawn.

Here It Comes…

Here it comes…

I can feel it in my bones as the chill of anxiety builds. There are no correct answers no matter my response. His reaction cannot be measured or guessed, certainly not by me.

Here it comes…

Back at home he will find the walls closing in on him and his mood will change with the wind. The clocks will cease, leaving me to stare at their frozen hands and begging them to nudge. His words may be bitter or paranoid or accusatory.

Here it comes…

Nothing can stop the inevitable.

Returned

He bought me an expensive necklace weeks after my birthday while manic. 

Today I asked him to return it despite the 6% fee. 

It was beautiful and under other circumstances I would have cried with joy upon receiving the diamond necklace; but I am not there right now.

I am not the person who gets that gift from her husband because he is not that husband. 

As I said,

He purchased it a few nights ago during a manic phase. It was never truly meant for me. 

And now I sit in the waiting room of his psychiatrist’s office…

Exhausted and wishing I was at home with my sweet dogs. 

Returned home.