Divorce, Single Parenting, Dating, Sex, & Self-Recovery

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imagine an ending (a poem)

more dead roses

flying home
november again
towards myself
limitless
unbound
ready for more
skipping over the painful bits
with abandon
and vigor
this is not the time
for regrets
or fear
or compromise
today
this year
i claim my independence
and self-care
self-love
selfishness
it is only on lonely nights
that i compose
love songs
heartbroken poems
and aspirational lists
of my *next* partner

it always ends like this
alone
logging into bumble
like a boss
opening new horizons
new opportunities
for more
for less
for smashing good sex
and less than joyful
collisions
my degree is in romance
not chemistry
i throw caution to the wind
for a pretty face
a smile that ignites
nightlights in my mind
and flutters in my belly
“she is the one”
i like to write
“she might be the one”
i write after a few months
“she’s got issues”
i muse
trying to repair the landing gear
mid-flight
adjusting the airspeed
and frictional drag
as we feel the tips of the trees
frozen and fragile
from the winter freeze
the power outage
that puts a point on everything
we’re lacking
that’s broken
in our energy grid
in our cooperative contracts
spoken and hidden
i write what i will miss
i write about being alone again
i write
more than i cry
about the loss
of one more missed embrace
moon shot at happiness
more dead roses
and a lifelong romance
imagined and constructed
and negotiated
until the path forward
became overgrown with brambles
and dangerous snares
set out for predators past
and triggered
at odd times
without rhymes
without reasonable doubt
merely set off
severing limbs
setting off alarms
breaking down lines of communication
until an exit
is the natural
result
and this poem
the obvious
motion
of my crushed
optimism

11-28-21

ready to be away (a poem)

coffee at the plaza 2021

what are we all trying to escape
this pain
boredom
regrets
sadness
loneliness
loss
why are we always looking for a way out
rather than in?

11-27-21

spirit dancer (a poem)

spirit dancer

it is not her that i am in love with
it is merely the idea of her
all the lace
perfect smells and smiles
the way she holds my head between her hands
and kisses me on the forehead
in her warm leotard
still breathing hard from the performance
and the grace
as she moves away from me
aches in yet a new deeper way
this ghost
mystery
woman
haunting my feeds and speeds
at warp speed
warping my mind
and expectations
of who i am
who i’d like to be
and how we would fit together nicely
if i could dance
and throw her in the air
the way she is used to
and then do something
even more amazing
that one thing
that would blur the lines
of age
righteousness
imbalance
and how our joy
multiplies our joy
when we’re thinking about each other
and even more
when we’re together
that’s what i’m thinking about, anyway
this morning
going meta in nyc

11-27-21