Don’t ask! Do tell!

You asked me what we were, what love is or means to me. But we know. We know that love has different meanings don’t we? You loved me, said it often enough. But why, why was I not feeling loved by you or anyone if ever.

I had to delve into the sea of memories, draw out moments, those where I could pinpoint love. The most recent is Jo calling up to check on me. She calls to hear about my day, says she misses me and how she would love to have me near. Jo makes me feel loved. In fact I acknowledge she does. So I can’t say ever, can I? My baby loves me deeply and sorrowfully for she knows she is growing and can’t bask in my love as she used to as a child. That makes her cherish me the more. I love when she comes home and asks that she lays on my lap or be held like a baby again. Nearness matters to her. Touch does too, as do affirmations and gifts. The fact she seeks me makes me feel loved.

And my mama, she loves me with sadness and regret. How, you would ask? She regrets the fact my life has turned into hers. She knows the loneliness therein, never having anyone to depend on, doing it alone. She knows that too much which saddens her. She loves it daily, especially now as a retiree, in a beautiful home with no one to share it with, just waiting on time gifted by her kids and grandkids. You’d think having been alone for over four decades, she would have gotten used to it by now. We never do, do we? Man isn’t meant to be alone. After a while the silence weighs on you, no matter what else you have filling the space. It pierces through. Mama loves me in the way she wants to protect me, spare me the loneliness. She does so softly, often cushioning the blows of life, tenderly. I often pray that the good Lord takes me first for if I were to lose her too what would become of me! Mama is my lifeline.

Somewhere in the synapses of matter and time, I reckon you mean it when you say you love me. I used to call people liars when they’d say they love me but I couldn’t feel loved. But I learned, it is offensive to negate someone’s feelings, insulting even. I take those words, as gifts from those who make themselves vulnerable to me. I cherish their hearts, the room they’ve opened to place me there. In doing so, I guess I cherish them too, you.

Most of my friends are men. In fact, they all are really and two of them I cherish for even if once they showed me their heart too. I respect their opinion, their ethics. They always come through for me. I don’t ask and when I do ask, they are always there. I recall one where he came during his vacation to fix things around my house I had just bought. He is handy, knew I’d have to pay someone for certain things he could handle. Without asking, he just cam, tool belt on and handled things. So I would say, acts of service is my love language from anyone.

I am the wife of one and none. He loved me. This, I can say why or how. Not that the man was perfect. Dear God, no one is no matter how highly we may think of ourselves! He loved in the early years, when we first met. Marriage change that. Why do people change the things they used to do or how they were after marriage! Maybe it will last longer if we just kept on beholding our beloved the way we did when courting. He made me feel I mattered. Il était attentioné. He put me first once upon a time.

Out of the well of sorrows, love shined through. Love to me is putting me first, being there, showing it to me, protecting me, being there for me, making the world appear kinder, nicer, more livable. If your love doesn’t come through in every act and words along these lines, I won’t be able to see it. So ask yourself, ask what have you done to be there for me, soften the blows of life, or put me first in words or actions? I can’t ask nor won’t ever tell anyone how to love me. 

You either do in these ways or don’t. 




Pain nothing can assuage,

here therein, 


Beneath our skin.

We peel,




to exhale.

This is why we do what we do.

Dull the senses.




hurt the hurt.





What annihilates: 






there’s no being there

when you’re on the phone

no being there

when you’re texting or emailing 

no being there 

in words

when you

leave a place, any place

when you

by my side, stand or sit

hold my hands 

hug me close

in the arena

take space

behold me





everything fades

mountains shrink

pain is divided

joy is multiplied 

no more a thought, a wish, an idea

it’s you

it’s me

linked, tied


Hey you!

It’s been a long time coming. I’m feeling the weight of your absence. I really do miss you tonight. It’s worse than every other night. It’s taking you so long.

Words are not enough. Neither wishes or prayers have you coming back to me. I don’t say it too often nor too loud, but I really do miss you.

Wherever you’re at this night can’t possibly be as engulfing as the hole you left me within.

Time is passing by, will you even recognized me if you come back to me. Will I, you?

What’s taking you so long?

Please, please, come back to me!

Fairytale Endings!

“This too shall pass”. That’s the best I can come up with.

I has been my motto forever. I don’t even recall when I grasp onto this as a lifeline. I can attest it to be true.

When the bottom falls apart and there’s nothing to hold on to, nor a rebounder at your feet, remember nothing lasts and everything passes.

I can’t predict how swiftly or how long but ‘tis I know it will pass.

I searched everywhere for stories in those moments when nothing makes sense, when life has fallen apart, when I feel  alone and defeated, I searched for ways and stories on how to make i5 through, I haven’t found any that elucidates or stirs momentum.

There’s a moment when you’re going through the worst of times, when you’re looking back to assess how and why you’re here at this moment, this time and place to see how you could have prevented this fall, take away this misery and you find the unexplainable. It is. It just is. It hurts. It sucks. You feel like a failure. You feel like you can’t go on, can’t do it alone nor even want to. You lack the desire to start over and the energy to pull through. You just sit there, listless. No joy. No angst. No hope. No plans. No will. No support. No friends. You’re all you’ve got, just you and it. This. This reality. The unexplainable.

I think that’s why I have always loved foreign movies. Funny. It’s as if American movies aren’t foreign to me. They’re not of my own, but I digress. Isn’t it ironic when there is foreign movies and American movies and somewhere in the world American movies are foreign? 

American movies tend to have this fairytale endings. The bad guy loses, happily ever after, all is right again even after tumultuous events. There’s this idealism where all will be right with the world, always and always. We are winning, we will win attitudes. Hardly are there stories reflecting real life situations where nope the bad guys always win, the ugly fat girl doesn’t turn into a swan and find Prince Charming, you lose it all and end up homeless, an addict and never recover. There are no real life stories, mostly happy endings. On this side of the world there’s no way for people to help you through the truth that we don’t all win in the do you live through that? How do you wake up everyday knowing this is it and nothing you’ve done or will do will bring about the things you’ve worked or hoped for? 

Life is more like the movie “parasites”, the haves, the have nots, the lucky few and the struggling majority, someone bamboozling another. Some always reaching, others taking for granted what they have, looking down upon others, some paying the consequences of their actions and others whom karma seems to forget about. 

And maybe that’s why we can’t make it through unscathed. No one speaks of how they deal with what is. How do you handle not getting what you wanted, or losing the job you earned over to some twenty year old with boobs and long hair or I could keep on… How? How do you handle life’s unfairness? How do you live with failure? How do you handle having to start over and over and over again? How do you deal with the fact you lost all your life savings in your fifties, or sixties, your home, your children, your friends? How do you face waking up to an empty house and having no one to talk to unless you’re behind a counter helping a customer? How do you handle never being hugged again? How do you handle your birthdays without a phone call, a gift, a celebration by anyone as if you don’t exist? How do you handle the feeling if you didn’t wake up the world would not notice?

Are you okay?

Is that okay?

How can I tell you you’re gonna be okay when you’re going through all of this?

I dare not. I can’t say. In fact it sucks. It really sucks that you must be going through this. No one ever thought that 1+1=0. We were raised to win. We grew up on movie endings where the bad guy pays for his misdeeds and the good outweighs the bad, harder yadda: fairytales. Life isn’t a fairytale. I stand corrected. Life isn’t a fairytale for most of us. And it’s not okay, it will never be okay. That’s why it is unfair. Some girls don’t lift a finger, can eat donuts all day and still wear two string bikinis. Yep. It sucks, really really sucks. All I can say is, this will pass. There will be days when the unfairness of the world will weigh you down and you’ll have to find a way to sit with the pain, the losses and disappointments, sit with them and not let them overwhelm you. Why you? But, why not you? 

Life is shit ain’t it!

PS: May the karma you believe in meet up with you before my eyes!