INKtober ninteenth

when you spend
so many years of your
life
with that one
person
one person
through
death & life
divorce & marriage
though all the hoops
life throws
at you
when you spend so much
of your
love
all in one place
hearts become woven
together
tight like knots
impossible
to untie
even when you use your
teeth
shout
&
curse
when you spend so much
of your
self
he somehow becomes a part
of you
too much
a part
of
you.

i started out thinking “picasso” but kind of ended up all “sideshow bob.”

how do people ever recover from long term relationships…or is it like when someone dies–you never really get over it, you just learn to live with the loss? so with relationships gone wrong–you just have to learn to live with that leftover love?

leftover love. sounds like the start of another page.

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INKtober fourth

once upon a time
i got happy
every
time
you walked through
the door
once upon a time
my heart
beat
faster
beat
lighter
just for you
…what happened?
where does that go
when it goes
away?

i had no problem drawing him…but i kept fucking me up. this was my second attempt. hmmm. i kept fucking me up.
what does that mean, i wonder.

also
i totally went right off the page.

always for now

always & forever
did not last
as long
as i thought it would
always
became sometimes
& then
seldom
before falling off the world & into
never….
forever started to
sputter out
after
what?
just a couple of years?
a brief
forever
waxing & waning
away to
nothing.
never mind.

anti-versaries

ah crap. it’s september…such a wonderful month for fall smells & sights…and the anti-versary of
meeting my first big love/heartbreak/betrayal
marrying my first husband
& meeting my last big love/heartbreak/betrayal

no wonder i feel like a big bag of hopelessly crappy crap.

fuck you, september
(please stop being hot now & at least give me some 70 degree weather)

image from an art class…moses jones as an archangel, slaughtering dusy–or, you know, the devil.

heavy

when someone close to you
dies
it becomes part of your description
she has brown hair
a nice smile
and her brother is dead

birthdays are the hardest
his last one
I didn’t know
it was the last
his voice sad on the telephone
my pledge to keep in touch
this time

we live in a world
where I can obsessively search for
intimate details of his death
available in short video
burning plane
gray matter splattered on a playground
his last words, “oh, fuck.”

notorious IT guy for the other side
the Forrest Gump of stolen elections
everything reminds me
of him
the sound of a single engine plane
sad songs on the radio
politics, Christmastime, and charismatic men

I drink Irish whiskey this time of year
but it was Scotch at his wake
four years now
four years since the last election
four years since the plane crash
a conspiracy theorist’s wet dream
murder Republican style

when someone close to you
dies
do you let it redefine you?
hello, I’m Connell
a mama, a student, an artist
let me tell you
about my dead brother

(written in 2012)

destroyed

i hate feeling like this
every year
since he has died
i hate it
i never knew
this level of hopelessness
with all the bad stuff
toppling
the way it
does

i hate feeling like this
every year
since he betrayed me
i hate it
i never knew
this level of hopelessness
with all the bad stuff
toppling
like it
does

my brother’s death
my ex-husband’s birthday
one day
that destroys me
every goddamned
year.

i used to joke that dusty and i would never be able to survive if we had to depend on each other in a time of crisis.

then my brother died
on dusty’s birthday
& i don’t think he ever forgave me for it.

i decided to divorce dusty the day of the funeral.
never had i ever seen a complete lack of empathy in a person
as i did that day
dusty intentionally hurt me as my brother’s coffin lay before us.

of course,
anyone who knows this story knows
i did not get rid of dusty for another eight years after my brother’s death
meanwhile dusty played me like a fucked up fiddle, even convincing me that it was my fault he was cheating on me…right in front of me….

sigh.

all this pain surfaces now.
this time of year.
my dead brother
my narcissistic & sadistic ex….

i lay awake at night & count my scars.

the color of my tears

the color of my tears
is the color of my eyes
some muted mix
of blue & green
that falls freely from my eyes

i get my brother’s birthday & his death day
mixed up in my head
he was born…
three weeks (& 45 years later)
he died
the last i spoke to him
was his birthday
so it is the last i remember of him
from the end of november
to almost christmas
it all blends together.
the end of him
& every time i see 12:19 on a clock
i forget that it is the birthday
of my children’s father
& only remember
it as my brother’s death
day.

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