the failings of a surgically healed heart | a collection

3 | a working progress

This is a poem about writer's block. The main ex-lover is my writing and my writing ideas, the other briefly mention lover is my art (the drawing kind.) Above is an example of it.

Which I got a C for.

Which goes to show writing is the better choice and also I would have been better off spending my time scooping out my eyeballs in those hours, of wasted sweat and tears.

But I'm not bitter at all 🙃

~

in an impromptu therapy session,
i admit to the shrink (i wish) i had:

yes, i am an artist
who would rather die than be dull.
a girl, with earth hued skin, 
in a toxic relationship with;
her work.
her addiction.
her lover.

my shrink asks me;
what your lover's name?

i sigh. this is not the question to ask.

say: my lover does not love me.
she left–
without warning.
took my ideas with her,
along with any sense of meaning i had of myself.
didn't even call
when she heard i fell ill
with writers-block.
lost a part of myself
because of her.

my shrink nods. notes it down. asks:
and how does that make you feel?

it makes me feel,
like a tortured artist;
inherently flawed with an obsessive compulsive need to
create perfection
and so,
create nothing.

my shrink leans in.
her voice low.
as if the two of us are about to share a secret: has this sort of thing happened to you before?

i want to say no. 
but recall the only city that felt like home, 
and the three years i spent with a lover– 
who didn't even say goodbye

and so, i whisper: once.

the shrink leans back in her chair;
a silent: go on

it could have never worked out, i begin,
i see that now
it was all about the aesthetics and material with him
but back then, i liked the way i could express myself through him.
thought i could prove everyone wrong by pursuing him, 
but i guess i was the one who was wrong
in the end.

and what did you do as a result of that? my shrink asks.

i groan. ashamed. say:
i, cried every day. 

found myself a background character in my very own hell:
a catholic school 
where the kids are as cruel as my father 
and my heart is never fixed

and following this most recent relationship "break" what did you do?
my shrink persists.

i tried to be more proactive,
i say.
in an attempt to convince my shrink
(or myself)
wrote every single day 
but deleted every single word
tried to fall in love with someone 
but became depressed 
because of how much they paled in comparison 
to her

my shrink writes down some more.
says: before she left, did you get any hints she might go?

a (too long) pause/an admission

yes, i say at last.
my workload got too much and i
started missing deadlines, so
instead of manage my time better i  
stopped giving her the attention
she deserved.
that is until it was too late

my shrink nods.

and i am undone by this revelation:
from myself,
to my myself,
about myself

how do you feel about the matter now?

i feel... i feel...

- i feel at a loss for words without her

---

Todays shout out goes out to mcstuffo1 not only for all the votes on the collection but also because in the original iteration of this collection I can't remember which poem it was exactly that you left the comment but the basic jist was although you didn't agree with all the conclusions/opinions I had or came to in my poetry you still thought I had something to say and something important at that and I guess that particular comment at that particular time I read it meant a great deal to me. It's something I went back up again and again when putting this together so thank you infinitely for it.