I continue to walk this long path full of shattered glass and enlarged flames. Allowing the pain to sweep around my toes, ankles, slender calves, thighs, pretty buttocks, hips, large abdomen, wide chest, wide shoulders up and around to the tip of my punctured nose. This pain is like no other and there is no true source yet physiological symptoms are always knocking at the door.
Tears blinded the road as I smoothly accomplished each twist and swerve home. I reflect on the one I suppose could have filled the empty pleasure cove. He stood tall and proud smugly glanced over me. That kind of glance people have when they come across the stench of cows among the countryside. The kind of glance given to CNAs from their medical colleagues. The glance that is the backbone of their false sense of superiority and you amount to nothing. He then walks briskly toward his apartment repeating twice not interested one more glance, one more “not interested”, and slams door shut. He does not forget to lock the many locks on the other side. Confined in his greatness.
Could he have been the one? Or was it the first one I allowed to touch me? Or the one I allowed myself to be vulnerable with? Or was it the one I took on a date who continued to flirt with others in front of me? Or the one constantly monitoring my every mood wanting nothing more than a puppet? Or the one selling dope at the corner only to be left dead shot in the head? Or the one I chased knowing he loved being chased but had little interest in being prized? Or the one night stands from drunken nights? Or the friend I thought I could trust? Or the first “with benefits”? Or the one on the DL wanting no one to know our “little secret”? Or the matches I found on tinder that rarely reply? Or the others I’ve allowed to see me, feel me, smell me and taste me? So many more unanswered questions arise with these few.
I continue to walk this path along the flames. I learned that the path to happiness to finding love one is bound to be burned along the way. The scars left behind are reminders, lessons, and they make us who we are. That’s all for now it’s late and I’m tired.