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When love makes you feel ugly

Updated on June 20, 2009

 The day I died

I looked into your eyes

and saw nothing there.


No spark

No glimmer                                                                           

Just a wince and an expression that said,

“I wish you weren’t  here”.

 

I kept searching...

looking;

trying to see any sign

that you wanted me;

that you still loved me.

 

All I could view was a thick, angry wall

that I felt responsible

for laying.

 

I’m too much of everything you said.

I smother you

I walk on you

I kill you.

 

Now, I am a walking shroud

staring lifelessly into nothing.

The grayness of everything

has penetrated into my soul

and the life I had built my happiness around

just lies there

awaiting for me to bury it...

 

I’m afraid to say goodbye.

I’m afraid to put us into the icy grave

along with the despair I feel.

 

I had never felt so alive

and so loved

or cherished as I had when I was with you.

 

I know that if I don’t finish things off

and cast us into the depths of hell

then I too will begin to reside there

for I can taste the sulfur

and feel the flames

and hear the sorrows of mournful souls

and I truly don’t want to be there any longer.

 

If only the sun would shine


and I could see the light

at the end of this empty, long tunnel.

 

I keep hearing the resonance

of our laughter.

I still feel the warmth of your body.

I can’t bring myself to change the sheets on my bed

because each night

I hope to catch your scent

somewhere in the folds.

 

Tears pour out

unpredictably each day.

I walk with heavy steps

as if bound by cement blocks

and my heart drags

as if it is bound and gagged

and forced to beat

against its own will.

 

This is the ugliness of love...

not many people want to see it

or admit they have experienced it.

 

True love for another

causes such pain

when it is stopped short-

yet hatred does not exist

anger does not surface.

Only the longing

and hoping

continues to survive...

Just enough to make one sick to their stomach.

Just enough to make me give up sleep.

Just enough to make me feel like a prisoner

in my own body.

 

I can’t escape.

I can’t escape my thoughts of you.

Your strong hands,

your gentle caress,

your endearing kisses upon my forehead.

The connecting of our bodies

to make a perfect puzzle.

The beauty of you and I.


I miss you so very much.

 

 

 

Love shouldn’t feel ugly.  I am constantly, these days, looking at my past feelings of sadness, with the loss of a partner, and how each break-up made me feel ugly.  I stopped loving me.  I began to hate myself and blame myself for the endings.  How tragic that so many of us find a need to taint and kill positive feelings about ourselves  in order for us to move on.  Remember, it takes two.  You can not have a relationship when both people are not truly involved.  You make choices and they do too.  You make mistakes and they do too.   What I  do for therapy, as you can see in my poetry, is take all of my negative feelings and put them in poetry.  The creative me feels strong.  That doesn’t experience loss.    I wish that all of us could take our creativity and use it in other endeavors that would be rewarding to our entire life.  Perhaps, with time, I will learn to do so.  I truly am trying. 

 

 

My love for you is an open wound;

One that will not heal.

No covering forms,

To protect me from the continuous pain

that infiltrates my heart.                                                     

 

I know of no dressing

or bandage,

that can shield me from what I am feeling.

 

Instead my heart gapes out

barely functioning;

I muster through each day

pretending that you don’t matter any more.

It’s a lie.

 

Like a drug for an addict

you are my fix.

You were the smile on my face.

Now you are the sorrow in my soul.

 

How I long to envision

you coming back to me...

Embracing my face with your hands-

kissing my lips

and rolling your tongue around mine.


I imagine your touch everywhere;

our legs wrapped and intertwined.

Our bodies so close that no space can be found,

and we embrace and know it will be alright.

 

It’s alright to be different.

It’s alright to love with such intensity.

It’s alright to feel fear

because what we’ve got is so special

we never want to lose it.

 

Fear won’t last however;

for we know WE are right together.

We can coincide together

with our differences and our similarities.

 

We can walk hand in hand;

because we are the best of friends.

Soul mates.

The perfect match.

 

Then, I wake up from my daydream

and realize you are gone.

There still is no scab forming.

The blood runs steadily out

and the wound continues to bleed.

I cannot let this be my demise.

True love cuts so deeply,

I will forever carry a scar.               

 

 

I  believe that we will always carry scars from past relationships.  My goal is to glance upon that scar and brag about it; like a commander in the service who boasts a bullet wound.  Past loves and the failure of past relationships need to be looked at as stepping stones in our life.  We cannot assume that the first few people that enter our lives are our saviors.  We need to empower ourselves and become our own saviors.  I want to be able to someday know that when I feel that wince of pain, it means I’M ALIVE!  If I am dead, I feel nothing.  It is from feeling that we grow and continue on in life.  Though it may seem a struggle most days, there is an intrinsic force that urges us to continue on.  Maybe it’s the “grass is always greener” syndrome.  I don’t know.  All I know is that I want to lay in that grass and leave the withered, brown shoots beneath my feet on the other side.  I want to see greener pastures before my eyes.  I won’t ever discover them if I don’t continue my journey.

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