One wrong move and it’s all tumbling down.
52 cards, face down, on the ground.
Your love has always been conditional.
I guess, that’s what we kept traditional.
It’s never been the most sturdy.
You’re always assessing me in a hurry.
I can never be anything new –
because what you thought of me,
was the only thing that could ever be true.
–S.
The reality,
of this catastrophe,
is you’re bad for me,
but I don’t want to be set free.
–S.
For my heart, you’re a maze.
I see you, through a haze.
You burn me, like a blaze.
My head is in a fucking craze.
Starving for you, but I’m just allowed to graze.
Time removes the glaze.
Nothing ever stays.
–S.
I run.
I turn every corner.
Mix up the number of lefts,
and the number of rights.
Down the hills,
and up the stairs in flights.
I run,
but it doesn’t matter how many turns,
or how fast – even when my sides burn,
because I always run right into myself.
I change up the paths, but they’re never any help.
–S.
Around the bend.
On the horizon.
Over the hill.
After that turn.
Change.
Growth.
Birth.
–S.
Will we stay friends?
Maybe.
Are we at the end?
You bet, baby.
Does he love me?
No.
Should I stay?
Go.
Is there someone else?
It’s all a little hazy.
Is she prettier?
Stop being crazy.
What about wittier?
Look, it will get better, but it’s about to get shittier.
–S.
I’m pretending.
It is neverending.
I break myself apart.
I put myself together.
I build myself up, to withstand any weather.
I skip.
I jump.
I walk.
I crawl.
Whatever you want,
I can do it all.
When you’re not looking,
I fall.
I break.
I cry.
How can you be overlooking,
all the cracks?
I’ll hold myself together.
I promise, I’ll try.
–S.
I collect your goodbye.
I place it with the others.
I collect the darkness.
And all that it smothers.
I collect the grief.
And my own disbelief.
I collect the dust.
And the rust.
–S.
I’ve named this space many different things on WordPress over the years.
Some of them I can’t remember anymore.
To name a few – I’ve been: Glittering Blackness, A Wildflower in the City, Texas Tumbleweed, Tales of a Texas Tumbleweed, Sunny Side Up-ish, Honeybun Heart, Crybaby, and something to do with a kaleidoscope.
In the middle of many nights, I’ve spiraled into needing to re-name immediately.
I don’t know if it’s just part of my personality, being a gemini, trying to keep busy to self soothe my depression, or some other disorder, but I’m always switching from name to name, project to project, list to list.
I never feel rooted in place. I’m never here.
I’m back in the past or somewhere in the future.
So, this final, re-name, for lack of a better word, is the start of the rest of my life. My posts, this time around, span back about a year sprinkled with days, weeks, and months of inactivity. There’s been some consistency, but not as much as I want.
I want, so deeply, to make this space a living and breathing thing.
I’ve never taken my writing seriously. I’ve always yearned to, but life always gets in the way somehow. Better yet, I’ve let things get in the way.
I allowed it.
Now that I’m off of social media and searching for a place to post all of my photographs and videos, it seems like the perfect time to take, not only my writing, but myself more seriously.
I’m not sure what else says taking yourself more seriously than an entire website dedicated to your own words, photos, videos, experiences, memories, and emotions.
Dedicated to The Messy Middle feels right. Like I was always making my way here.
Isn’t everything happening to, and around us, until death the messy middle anyway?
Here’s to me betting on myself. Finally.
Note: if you’re not into scrolling through all of my posts one-by-one and want to read about specific topics – I’ve organized all of my posts by category and you can access that in the ‘topics’ section of the menu at the top of the website with options like poetry, letters, and love.
I still can’t believe you come here to read what I have to say.
–S.
The Messy Middle 🖤 