summer nights in mayfield,
sometimes i wish i'd live there,
sometimes i wish that i could leave
the endless war-field
that we tend to call home.
6 months that i chose to spend in
delusional fantasies and
sickly sweet daydreams,
again and again on repeat,
i find myself hoping, it was all real,
because if it wasn't then, they'd be right;
i was never happy.
put my luggage in the corner,
lock myself in the guest bedroom,
you said that you sleep better alone-
but you were always a heavy sleeper.
at dinner, i'll say something stupid,
like i missed you today or how was work?
nothing i say will ever bandage the hurt.
the neighbor's music will remind you
of slow dances we shared, back when
we were young and beautiful.
i'll wonder and think of all the ways
that i could help, and i'll brainstorm
things to help me not sound dumb
in front of you and your strong presence-
you were always so smart.
we'll see better times!
if only we try, i remember that i liked
positive messages and glowy sunshine,
but a part of me was you or who you were
and now, that part died.
everything i liked about me
was who you were and i
relied on your determined effort
and your laughs, which i never hear
anymore, and the words you whispered
in my ears when we got married,
on a June night, the moon was high,
my dress was tight, and for a moment,
maybe everything could be alright.
maybe we could be alright.
late december, telling myself
it's now or never, i scream,
as if it would do any good,
"just love me!"
you couldn't.
a/n:
the feeling of desperately trying to win your partner's love in a failing marriage is an idea that i've played around with for a while. it seems so so so exhausting.
