She kept his side of the bed open as if he might return. Made coffee every morning just as he instructed. Strong / solid / delicious. Enough for two. Listen for the change of pitch in the grinder. 2 teaspoons of ground coffee per cup in the french press. a tiny bit of coconut oil. 2 and half teaspoons of coconut sugar per cup… She dreamt of him. Cried for him. Coated her love for him in hatred. Drunk or praying, acting a fool or lighting candles. Went to 3 healers, 1 psychic, started A Course in Miracles, kundalini on Mondays. Singing would make the pain fade, transmute from gray to gold, to black then blue. Music her savior. How high is too high for an energetic fence? He wanted to build a fortress around her. To protect or to own? Yet he wouldn’t claim what was his. He called her his queen but for his queen he would not fight. She doubted her worth only to find it again only to doubt it again. A shadow of a once phenomenal woman. Though she’s lost, she’s more than what they know. Multifaceted feminine energy. Complex nuances devoured mindlessly. Vulnerability. Cut wide open. Even friends can claim you as pray in a tender moment. STOP. He apologized later. Doesn’t make it right. It’s a shame you cannot unfuck someone. Then there was a sweetheart, teddy bear made her smile when she was drowning. Should’ve kept it on the homie tip just riding bikes and laughing, doing karaoke. It was just so nice to have someone CLAIM her, be proud of her, want to be around her all the time. But nothing healed the ache. Nothing would erase him. If it weren’t for the Earth angels/ sisters/ girlfriends / heroes she might never have gotten up off the floor.. I feel ill. This has gotten ugly. I can’t blot out the things you’ve said. Your lenses don’t allow you to see my light. Partner or servant? Why do you withhold? Made to feel less than… I’m your whore that you no longer engage. Eternal rejection. I’m put on pause until it’s convenient for you to acknowledge. This is no life. This is not the love I dreamed of.
A Love Story. Part 2.