she tells us how to fall in love. again.
the anger burns and the tears swell until they fall,
not because i need to do those things… but because i already do them. or did them. or just… well…


we danced

and we loved. 
and we made love. 
and we held hands. 
and we flirted and told old jokes about seagulls. 
and he kissed my forehead, 
and i traced his tattoos with my fingers as we rode down the road.
his hand always found the inside of my thigh when we sat next to each other…


those things? we did. and we did well… 

if that’s what it takes to fall in love again, we should be a happy couple, living under the same roof, delighted in our marriage, fulfilled.


but here i am,

in our house- the one we were going to make into our home- by myself…
i’ve hung pictures where i thought they should go,
and i’ve leaned my shoulder into a bookshelf with barefeet and willed it to move into the next room.
i come home to an empty house, and i bathe the boys, and i know where their lovies are,
and i want to pound my fist into the wall, because i don’t want to be here alone.
and my heart aches because we chose other dreams, and they’ve slipped right through the cracks in our hands…


and tonight, there’s dirty dishes… from tuesday?
a pile of sweaty, filthy little boy clothes in the hall,
a boy with strep asleep in my bed, 

and another boy chasing the cat and slamming doors…


we don’t slam doors in this house, cade.

and my heart catches in my throat, because we did that night… 
that one night, the door was slammed- once by me, when i left him here alone to pack a bag.
and next by him, when he realized i was really going to let him, make him leave…
our daily phone calls are usually short and matter of fact, and have you made [these appointments] yet? and have you gotten [this] done? and i don’t know what else to say


he’s elsewhere.
and we’re here.

he’s to blame.
and lord knows, i’m at fault, too.  no finger pointing, no name calling here,
and i don’t really know what to make of it all. 


but there comes a point when you’ve given all you’ve got, 
when you’ve fought as hard and as long as you can and the only thing left to do is to curl up on the couch in defeat and let your world crumble and shatter around you… 
because you can’t pick up the pieces, until there are pieces to pick up…


  1. Oh I’m so sorry, looks like between a rock and a hard place. I pray it makes you stronger and whatever happens does so for the best.

  2. I don’t know you, but I think I know your STRENGTH, which (something tells me) can move MOUNTAINS… Sending MUCH LOVE from here in Ohioooooo.

  3. I am just getting to the unread blog posts folder tonight, and goodness. We may have had different issues, but I know this feeling oh so well, and I know how much it aches. I hope you know to email/text/call me any time you need a place to cry or yell or be distracted.

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