She Has Taken Half My Heart

September 11, 2015 at 10:56 pm (Uncategorized)

arty heart

She Has Taken Half My Heart

She didn’t want my Work
I am already doing it, and doing more of it, and
doing less of other things.
Dedication, in this case,
means spending your time seeped
in Passion, Purpose, and Production
while at the same time fighting
Distractions, Drama, and Dead-Ends.
Why should She merely ask for something
I’ve already given Her
or more precisely
given Her father who in turn gives it to Her?

Nor did my Will interest Her;
I play out my submissive fantasies with the Gods,
doing what They ask, even if I don’t understand
or feel so inclined or like how my gut feels about it.
I empty myself of as much desire,
even when it means crying over dead dreams and visions
a loving marriage, a thrice filled cradle, a rounded family,
a dog named Mr. Bojangles running in the yard
it sounds so unlike me, but that’s because the me
surrendered their Will long ago
but also surrendered their Will yesterday, today
each breath another surrender.
Why would She merely ask for something
I’ve already given up
continue to give up with
as little contrariness as possible.

The body we need not even discuss –
She made it abundantly clear that the body
is completely optional in Her grand plan.
To Her favor, my body is a second prize;
reminding everyone that death is not
one grand gesture, one missed breath,
nor one single culmination of symptoms.
First my mind, my limbs, my sense of balance,
my shape, my gut, my immune response;
my eyes, my hands, my fingers, my feed.
My womb and my femininity, my fertility
My libido, my masculinity, my body autonomy,
My shitting and pissing, my ambulation and movement
my precious words in speech and in writ.
All these you have borne witness to
The Dying Man, the saddest freak in the show.

She has come for my heart
in slow, steady beats.
Disenchanted by
how I love, how I want to be loved,
She removed all illusions and obstacles.
It isn’t about the people, She said.
You can’t choose it for the people.
This love is about willful surrender
but one I have always found
painful, difficult, scary, complicated
and likely the culprit of the
corpse-memories of the exes littering my past.
Each time I tried to
break open and love with my intestinal mess
my fatty liver, my overtaxed kidneys
but it’s not about the body
because love doesn’t die like that.
Oh, it does, in that it dies in minute imperfections
until the foundation gives way
and destroys everything.
But for Her,
I must destroy everything first
The tiny IEDs set to wreck
every single fear and fallacy
laying down cover for the big guns

I knew I was dying
but I didn’t know until now
that it would be through
the blood of love
coursing deeper
while pooling slowly
until every last breath
is in Her name

And then all that is left is Her epithets
That crack open the iced lock to Her realm.
If I’m lucky
(and sometimes I am)
I’ll get to see my Father first.
Or maybe my mother, if she isn’t too busy
with the Bobs and Bobbies and Ba.ha.u.lah
She always liked winter anyway.

alone-guy-with-broken-heart

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8 Comments

  1. Casta Lusoria said,

    *listening* and keeping you in my thoughts and heart.

  2. Fala said,

  3. Duffi said,

    Brilliant. Heartbreaking. I send you love.

  4. Raven said,

    Hail.

  5. Úlfdís said,

    Reblogged this on Ironwood Witch and commented:

  6. aeddubh said,

    That is beautiful and heartbreaking and very very brave.
    You are, as always, in my prayers.

  7. facingthefireswithin said,

    Hail to you, my friend.

  8. Max said,

    I just found this blog through the universe, through coincidence, through a search that didn’t end where I thought it would. You are loved.

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