I promised myself I wouldn’t let myself fall in love again before getting divorced or at least separated.
I promised myself after the terrible heartbreak of losing K that I wouldn’t do that to myself again.
Last night M and myself broke up.
It’s the second time we broke up. But the first was after just a short time together. This second relationship was longer, more intense and ultimately we fell in love.
I never expected M to come into my life the way she did. She had already in my life for several years as a colleague but I never expected anything to happen. The type of woman I would never think I had a chance with. Stunning beautiful, 15 years younger, very religious, a workaholic … the difference between us are numerous. But so are the similarities and the need to have someone to share with.
It’s a relationship that offered me a welcome distraction from the drama and heartbreak. It gave me an immeasurable amount of confidence. Taught me control and to focus on priorities. And ultimately that’s why it fell apart. No matter how much we love and want one another, we both know a real relationship would never work under current circumstances. So we stopped before it got worse. Before the pain a breakup would bring became soul destroying. Priorities. I have mine. I need to care for my kids and do what needs to be done, to gain my freedom.
For now I feel like a caged animal. Living a pointless, empty life. Just filling the time with nothingness as father times clock ticks away. But those are my demons and my issues to deal with.
I vow I won’t let this happen again before I am in a position to love someone without boundaries … without restriction. Hopefully this time I can stick to this promise to myself …
There is an nasty virus spreading across London Town. You may not see it. It disguises itself well. It is hip, happening and the kids (young and old) are all signing up.
It has taken that beautiful antique table, the patinaed typewriter on the table and the rusty bicycle on the wall and sucked all the appeal out of them. You see this virus is quite the leech. Its sucks the beauty out of architecture, books, fashion, menus … the list is endless.
Taking key pieces of something and placing it perfectly opposite a different piece of something unrelated, but equally beautiful so that the juxtaposition between the two is perfect no matter how crappy the lens of the bright eyes tourist is.
The not so delicate, amazingly creative grunge gets replaced by the soulless manufactured grunge coated in just the perfect amount of scuffs.
And slowly my city rots. It rots as gallons of beard oil seep deep into its soil. It rots as the creativity washes away, pushed out to somewhere affordable.
Another boutique clothing store who’s single pair of vintage twead trousers carries a price tag that could provide the annual nourishment for the extended family of the miserably poor Turkish villager who’s hands created them. Another ethically sourced ingredient’d menu appears with words most good dictionaries would struggle to stomach. Another rockabilly girl parks her designer bicycle in a colour that the factory stopped producing back in the 50’s and sits down on an old school bench that has been repurposed by the restaurant owner handing her Canadian Arctic water. Another tear falls down my cheek as I sit on the bench opposite her in my new trousers and look down at the new menu.
I’m lost without you now, why’d things go this way
A beautiful union broken, just the memories remain
Memories of times together, slowly fogging and drift away
The future I dream’t in tatters, those embers turned to ash
Life’s a dull grey hollow, daily tears feeding the sorrow
My broken heart won’t heal … but to heal is to forget so NO
I see you here, I see you there … heart and mind conspiring against me
A ghost reflection, a scent, a sound … senses that trigger pain, trigger you
Tossing and turning all night, tormented by lost love
Those restful nights beside you, fragmented echos now
Eyes I once lost myself in, awash with hurt and grief
Your tears now haunt me baby, can’t block that memory