he broke my heart
wrong with me
i’m just something
of men treating me
like i don’t
how come no one
like i mean
do i think
that i let
a part of me
on the wound?
these are words i wrote in journals in 2001 when i was 31. they were written as prose, but i could see how they would be written in free verse i journal in these days…so i put them in a page of my journal 20 years later.
maybe now you can see why i am scared of relationships?
granted most of these past 20 years have been spent in just one relationship…but, fuck me, it was a doozy of a mind fuck.
i like to think i have recovered some since i first wrote these words. my art journaling has definitely helped me to scab over some of these wounds.
now, i guess, i peek out of my hole & wait for spring. surely spring is coming? though not with a gentle blossoming but with a storm of the century….
(journal pages not yet written)
ps. though my handwriting & heartache stay somewhat of a constant…i am happy to report that my art has greatly improved!