a work in progress

Category: The Sexes (Page 1 of 16)

There For You.

I’ve woken up, so unsettled.

You were in my dream.

Vivid and real.

All boyish. Slightly surly, slightly off hand, mostly masculine.

And then when there was no one else and the car door closed, you reached out your hand.

And I didn’t skip a beat.

My hand into yours.

And you let it all out.

The fears.

The worries.

The pain.

The heartbreak.

And you wanted me for you.

But I had somewhere else to be.

And maybe I understand now.

What the dream was for.

I have someone else, to be for.

I’m sorry my love.



Round 2

We don’t usually have round 2 of an argument.

We usually have it sorted after round 1.

We need help sweetie.

We need help.

We aren’t fighters.

Yes, we used to be.

But it never worked for us.

The seperate beds, the harsh words, the uncaring.

It has never been who we are.







(May, 2018)


You called me volatile.

But where did that come from?

I feel like I needed to.

Start to fix.

This control.




Because, it’s been going on so long.

Now I see it from outside of us.

I see you and me.

What it does to you.

And what it does to me.

You push.

I fold.

You push.

I fold.

And so it goes on.

I think the aftermath of that,

Is always going to be volatile.


(May, 2018)

Steady Love

I’m glad you’re here.

I’m glad it’s you.

I’m glad I can dish it and you can take it.

I’m glad you know how to talk about your feelings and feel ok to be vulnerable with me.

It’s the safest place in the world my sweet.

I’m glad we’re both broken.

I’m glad you feel it and I do too.

I’m glad our love is the ordinary, mortgage and kids type of love.

Let me tell you, that’s the luckiest type of love in the world.

I’m glad you take flight and take risks.

Both of us bearing the burn.

But never living a life unfulfilled.

Stand by me.

And I’ll stand by you.

I’m glad.

You chose to be glad with me.

Because one day.

They’ll write about us.

One day.

We’ll make history.

We’ll change minds, as we do now.

You and I.


Lifetime after lifetime.

I can hear you chuckle.

Stuck with me.

Over and over.

You have my heart.



(April, 2018)


We were always on the same page.

You were always as deep.

Running alongside me.

Catching my thoughts from where they left off.

I accepted and understood your limitations.

But maybe I’ve found a new limitation.

One of feeling a little less.

A little less than me.

And now I know.

Why when a child dies,

It’s rare for a couple to stay together.

To stick it through.


You simply.






(April,, 2018)

The Accuser


When you fight with me.

You let it all rip.

From the seams to the core.

And I know.

In that moment,

It just needs out.

It is not you.

It is not me.

So in that moment,

I let the words fly.

I swerve and let them float past me.

Far off.

Forgotten before they were fully spoken.

Heard barely.

Felt never.

And so I let you.

Get it out.

So we can.

Get on.

My Man.

Hey you. 

My lover, my man. 

The one who can’t shed a tear. 

When he needs it the most. 

Hey you. 

Sweet man. 

Is it all ok in there? 

Because I reached out at night. 

And your body wasn’t near. 

Because I tried to make it light, and your laughter wasn’t heard. 

Hey you. 

It’s ok. 

It’ll all be ok. 

It wasn’t you. 

It wasn’t me. 

It wasn’t all of this. 

It just had to be. 




Yesterday you spoke.

And spoke. 

And spoke. 

I wanted you to get it all out. 

Out of your system. 

The words, the pain, the hurt. 



So that your insides were anew. 

But I couldn’t help but notice. 

Those strings of words. 

All too familiar. 

Because there was a time. 

When they came from my lips. 

He said I shouldn’t. 

They thought it was best I don’t. 

It’s not in my control. 

He bought the tickets so I had to go. 

I told him we shouldn’t, but he said we should. 

All those words. 

Tell me. 

You gave your power to him. 

Nestled it in his lap. 

And then asked me. 

What can I do? 





There is confusion.

Where are you my sweet.


Is where you are.

Far from me.

Unable to connect.

Unable to reach.

But I know you.

You know me from every under current running along the lines that transfer my breath, my intonations, my heartbeat from me to you.

You know my silence.

You know the anger in my message when I simply say, “ok”.

In our darkest hours

We have nothing to give.
Hurting and hurt.

We just need each other to take from.
But what is there to take, when you are so empty.
So so empty.

And so we try.
To fill the cup again.


Through the darkness of the night.

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