Again

It hurts... again. He said he would call back, and he didn't. Not even to say that he can't talk.

I'm worried. I hope everything is fine with his family.

It appears as if he turned off his phone, and that hurts.

I don't know what to think.

It hurts. What happened? Why didn't he call? Doesn't he know just how much it hurts me and how much I miss him???

I want to strike back. I want to cry. I want to curl into a ball and not let anyone touch my heart again.

I know I'm exaggerating. But I'm not. It hurts.

The tears are slowly slipping down my cheeks, and I am wishing that they carry the hurt with them. Out of me.

I try to tell him how much or how important it is for me to talk to him. Maybe it's too important. Maybe it's too much.

I don't need him. Make me don't need him. Make me don't care. Make it go away.

Maybe I expect too much. I'm sorry if I do. I'm sorry that I believe you when you say you will call. I don't need you. I don't need anyone. Just go away and I'll be fine.

Months Ago

Memories of months ago remembered as years of love and smiles
In our understanding through the ancient passion of others
My desire grows with my trust
And the future is nearer than the past

How I long for you without time interrupting;
An eternity of contentment and beatific smiles satisfied in your arms
But the fear crashes through the golden gates and darkens my hopes of forever
It surprised me with a quick return after I had banished it
Vanquished it with your understanding.

I dream of suffocating it with our happiness and together times
But it drags my heels reaching for my open heart.
I want to cut its claws but am afraid of amputating my own hands
Ghost pains of mistrust will only continue to hound me
Until I know what part of me I must fight
To win you

Make A Wish

Just something that was easy and fun to write



Sometimes it would catch her by surprise. She would look at the clock and there it would be staring at her waiting for her dreams.... 11:11 "Make a wish." That's what her friends had taught her. And she would.

When she first learned about it the wishes were of ponies, a new bike, pink ballet slippers, and a brand new baseball glove that had to be broken in with saddle soap, a baseball in the pocket, secured with rubber bands and then put under your mattress.

She wasn't all girlie girl. Her best friend David could attest to that. Hell, with a nickname like Frankie you knew she didn't sit at home polishing her fingernails waiting for a boy to call.

Baseball was what brought them together. They became friends that first day at camp when she stole his favorite hat from his sweaty head and took off running. She wore it the rest of the day and it didn't bother her that it had never been washed. It was the summer before both of them were going into fourth grade, and they were inseparable.

It's not that they were outcasts. They both had friends of the same sex. It's that they were most comfortable when it was just the two of them . They understood each other. Her friends (girls) didn't get it when she talked rbi's, era's, and her dreams to play shortstop. Day's friends (boys) didn't understand his love of reading and writing. When they were together there was an easiness; conversations switching between how their team could've lost last night's game to which book was their favorite that week.



They hated the teasing, and they got it a lot. Their parents, friends and siblings just wouldn't let up. She was the only girl invited to his bar-mitzvah and as soon as he said hello at the party they both heard the kissy sounds of his classmates. He told her they were jealous when he saw the tears in her eyes as she ran from the party. And it was then that he realized that they probably were and with good reason.

She was special and even if she was only a buddy, she was his.

It took her longer to realize. All through high school, he listened to her as they would throw the ball around, about this guy or another. He never told her how he felt. He was always afraid she would laugh and think he was joking. She dated almost every guy in his class and some in the classes above and below. The almost was that she didn't date him.

It was the summer after their graduation when he told her. They were both going away to school, and he was afraid he would lose her to a college guy. He had almost lost her earlier that year. He remembered listening to her talk once again about how she felt about someone other than him, except this guy wanted to marry her. It shocked him into action.

She laughed while talking about it. Finding it so very funny that someone could even think of her in that way. She still loved baseball and hanging with the boys. She couldn't see herself as someone's wife and then later as a mom.

He took another look at the girl he loved and realized that she wasn't a girl anymore. Other people saw her as a young woman with a brilliant smile that would light up her eyes even if they were hidden behind glasses and under that ever present baseball hat.

My Ghost

My thoughts are filled with him. I see someone smile and think of his eyes twinkling. I hear a horn honking and think of him driving. My phone rings and I hope he is calling.

I live with music and every song I hear connects me to him. I can't get away from him. There is nowhere to go to escape his sweet deep voice and rumbling chuckle.

Even my dreams are filled with him... so real that when I wake I'm reaching for him.

He haunts me with his soothing words and chains me to him by the teasing names he calls me.

I miss him but he is not gone from my world.

Wish I Were Lucky

Lucky





In my heart... Rated R

Make The World Go Away

Eddy Arnold was a giant. Here's Martina singing and if I could I would to make you smile.

Swallowing Tears

How do you swallow the tears to numbness
Forgetting what was there
The joy lifting you above is now shoved down
with the pain
Silent drops escape and my chest is sore
from being ripped in two.
In the sun it is easier to pretend life is fine
but at night it will not be contained
and flows into a river of hurt down the worn tread of thrown away dreams
memories of what could have been follow my footsteps dodging my happiness
trying to forget what never existed
my tired eyes cannot see the future
clouded by visions of unknown ecstasy
the knot gets stuck in my throat and will not go down easily
pulling us with it.

His Song

You touch my heart with words that are not yours
Reaching out for love
Breaking down the doors
Our world of hidden pain
Cannot be forgotten
I yearn for your soul
And stand in the rain

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

Reaching through the miles traveled in our lives
People we’ve become
As we tell ourselves the lies
To keep us living
Moving forward every day
While looking for that someone
Who can show our hearts the way

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

Wait for me I’m coming to share your inner world
Reaching for your hand
Knowing we can share the gold

The sky falls down upon me
And I watch while you appear
In a cloud above me
And I’m still standing here

In the joy of our souls meeting the dreams can fade away
We can start to live our life
And move on to the new day
The sky opens up above us
And we watch the sun appear
Together we are smiling
As we throw away the fear

Becoming Jane

Happy endings can be written
but not lived with the passion
and yearning for their life together

Alone in the future with words for company
each story ending with love
while her own must continue without
not willing to hurt him through his family

Doing what is right and necessary
Instead of what is wanted
For a love never to be lived
but imagined and dreamt
Created with characters

each one, him
each hero, him

because her thoughts are full of him
and the only way to rid herself of them
is to give them to others
as she has given him to others

Everyday, every night
She remembers his behaviors and tones
With a smile on her face.
Hoping that he is happy
That what she has lost
He has gained without her

She was never erased
Always a reminder
In a name of a beloved child

It does not still the beating of her heart
or dry the tears on her soul

He has not forgotten


If only he had,
then perhaps one day she will.

I Hate Love

It hurts too much.

I hate limbo because I don't know what I'm expecting then I'm not at ease and can't experience what I really feel. All that I feel then is anxious. It colors everything a pukey sea green kind of color that reminds me of hospitals where I've done a lot of anxious waiting through my life.

I'm horrible at making decisions, not all decisions just a few and of those only the ones that impact on me singularly. I would love for someone to make these decisions for me, but then what would be the purpose of me being involved in my life at all?

I don't know whether to cry or yell so I do neither. The pain is muted right now. I have too much going on in my life to feel it completely or maybe I just don't want to face it.

I feel like I'm losing a best friend, and he's not even lost. It just that things are in limbo, but I have this feeling. Anyway... I'm sure my tears will come. But my eyes are dry right now. I guess, I'm trying to push it down. I've never felt this way about someone. Maybe it was easier to care about him like this because he was so far away. So that this wasn't "real." Then why does it still hurt?

I have too good of an imagination. I let dreams get the best of me. At this point in my life, I should know that there is no such thing as "happily ever after." But I do know that. I don't want perfect. I just want to share. I want to share smiles and tears, arguments and make-ups, family dinners and slamming doors.

I wish... I hope... I dream... and I curse myself for wanting the impossible.

Didn't reread. Don't want to read this again.

A Case Of The I Wants

I want a loving man
arms around me
lips on mine
eyes of understanding

I want a family of children
sticky hands on my shoulders
laughing faces
mischevious eyes

I want a dream fulfilled
heartaches soothed
emptiness erased
tearful eyes of joy

but

you don't always get what you want

Lonely

I miss my boy. He's with his dad and I haven't seen him since Wednesday, and only got to speak with him for about 1 minute today. My heart aches.... It's not like I could go by and give him a hug or blow him a kiss and see his smile. It hurts, and I'm trying to find something to occupy my mind. I did keep busy over yontif and today, but it's hard at night, at home, without him.

I called Blondie, but he's busy getting his kids things ready for tomorrow, and didn't want to talk on the phone. That's cool... he doesn't really like talking on the phone anyway. You can hear it in his voice, and I was going to ask if I could come over, and hang but it didn't sound like he would've said yes. I tried to get a hold of Bud but wasn't able to reach him. Mamasita is sleeping and True Blue is tired (I found out she's pregnant too). Shmellen is also worn out we spent most of the day going to and from Brooklyn getting her baby stuff from her friends. Sooo...

I guess it's hard because all I saw over the past four/five days were families. It just reminds me of DB. Whatever... I'll live it's just that I wish...

Yes, I'm Relaxed...

I have so much to do and to write. So... guess what comes first?

It's quiet in my apartment. DB is sleeping, the air conditioner is on, and the sound of classical music is filtering through the walls. Someone has it playing very loudly so I get to enjoy it too. This all very conducive to writing. Plus I'm sitting in an old wooden desk chair on wheels, at the old (but new to me) dining room table that I put back together after moving it. The chair creaks whenever I lean back, and I know that I need to pull out the DW-40 sometime soon to oil it.

I feel very content right now, at peace, relaxed and it makes absolutely no sense to feel this way. I have court tomorrow, the apartment is a big and I mean BIG mess. Papers are strewn everywhere. (Always wanted to use the word strewn.) Legos are on the floor in the bathroom. I've been trying to figure out that one. Oh! DB was probably playing with them in the bath and left me to find them with my bare feet in the middle of the night. OW!

Ahhhh.... but my boy was relaxed tonight. He hasn't been relaxed in such a long time and it's a pleasure to see. I'm so happy for him. He asked me how my day was when I picked him up from camp. Of course, I asked him first, but still.... I didn't have to remind him. The lessons and nudges about using his manners are working. The other day he opened my car door. I was joking around, "What are you doing little one? Are you going to drive us today?" "No, Mommy I just opened the door for you." Boy, did that put me in my place and shock me at the same time. A neighbor that was walking by was informed immediately about my gentleman son. Couldn't be prouder of da boy.

Tonight I got a hug and "You're the best mom ever." Not to mention giggles and a trip to Chile. We have started watching Wheel Of Fortune together to help with his dyslexia. We're planning on taking our trip next summer so we can go skiing there (in our dreams).

We read two more chapters of Ben and Me. He was trying so hard to keep his eyes open that there were no complaints when I closed the book and said time for Shema. Yes, another book on Benjamin Franklin. It's getting so that DB is correcting the book when the history is not completely accurate. Benjamin Franklin is one of DB's idols along with Spiderman, Einstein ('cause he had dyslexia, was a scientist, dealt with time travel, "And he's JEWISH, Mommy). DB's dream is to create more inventions and be a better scientist than Ben Franklin. I can't wait until he does. I've got to try to get us to the Franklin Institute in Philadelphia by the end of the summer. No, not the Franklin Mint that makes all those Elvis plates and other collectibles. I would really love to know who actually collects those things.

And we're back...
My attorney just called after re-reading the forensic report and stated that we actually have a very good case. There's a pre-trial settlement meeting scheduled at court for tomorrow. Wish me luck Actually, wish DB luck because I'm doing this for him. I'll let you know how it goes. It's not scheduled until the afternoon so there's the possibility of us being back in court on Wed.

My mom is on her way up to offer emotional support. Actually, she just sits next to me and knits or crochets. It helps keep me calm so that I can think clearly. She's made three ponchos, three scarves (I made a scarf myself one day in court), two blankets, and a hat during the court appearances, hearings and trials. And would you believe that not one of them has been for me. Ever since the duck sweater incident in the 80's she hasn't made me anything, and it wasn't even my fault. She kept on ripping it out and starting over again.

I might bring my needlepoint tomorrow. I haven't worked on it in such a long time, and it appears that things might be coming to a close soon.... ok six months can't really be considered soon, but it is in my eyes after going through this craziness for so many years. I want to have it ready to hang in my new home. Boy, does that sound nice... I'll just keep davening and hoping and wishing and working my ass trying to make sure that it happens.

Ugh! I'm gonna go now, and I haven't even updated y'all about the men or lack thereof, situation. I guess you'll just have to wait.

Dreams

My words seem so much more than inadequate. Too flowery and old fashioned for times of computers and devices that make handwritten letters obsolete.
I watch movies that make me cry wishing I had that love.
Someone to share that physically powerful
emotion
that can bring me to tears
aches in my chest with the fullness of joy
That is what I want in life
dreams of movies, fairy tales, and love letters
the poetry of joy filling my soul
honeysuckle sweetness and children’s laughter
the awesomeness of skies shining with everlasting
stars and twinkling
like glorious drops of rain on windows
mirroring images of fires stoked
filling home with warmth and comfort
that insulates the world
from the fierce and insatiable love between two.

I wish to be one of that two.
To be filled with thankfulness
to feel beauty in my love
in his love
looks of adoration
that brings such smiles upon humanity,
that sees grace in the flight of a paper bag drifting in the wind,
and attracts eyes with the understanding of fulfillment,
and the wish to share it.

It doesn’t matter that these overdone, over thought words fill people with laughter.
Words are not good enough anyway.
If I could write music, perhaps notes would fill the air
with longing
like the call of a loon across a moonlit lake.
But even then those phrases, those sounds would be inadequate to express what I wish for,
and dream of.

Dreams may be the only way to express these harbored emotions.

Sailboats flying through fields of golden wheat
The whiteness of the rippling cloth
expressing the pureness of these desires
the wind captured in their smooth folds
the way my heart is held in his hands.
He holds my face gently with those callused palms
and looks into my eyes waiting for the return of the rapture
he shines upon me;
rays of mellow sunlight
through the dappled leaves of Renoir paintings,
and the lightness
in Chagall’s pair of lovers flying
through the flowers of soft kissed dreams,
Van Gogh’s passionate swirls and dashes
with thickened strokes and deepened hues
expressing the insanity of his infatuation,
the languor and almond eyes of Gauguin island girls
satiated with the taste of foreign fruits.
I long to endure until
those sensations overtake me.

But all of this is only a dream, not the bricks of reality to build a stable life.
Is it possible to combine the two?
To fill my heart with passion and my home with security.
I’m afraid that the answer is
no
as unbending and cold as the steel rail on the steps of my home
leading to a life of
empty wishes and desires unfulfilled.

Dreams of ecstasy
wake to the boredom of beds unmade from sleep
not from writhing bodies locked in the grasp of exaltation;
tasting the sweet salty drops on skin exquisite
as the pain of waiting till the next union.

My hopes, cigarettes drowning in city puddles
surrounded by buried dreams of wanting,
waiting for fulfillment
Shoved aside by rush hour pedestrians running
to their prisons of moneyed lives
ignoring the ache and want of recognition in a stranger’s eyes.
Dusty rugs dragged from their hearts
with horns and honks shocking them to life
to the clamour and screams of their souls.
But then too afraid to witness possibilities
and this awakening;
the mind floods with doubts
sinking the brave
heart that swims waves of emotion
risking the pull of dark riptides
into grey oceans of normality
day to day sameness.

I yearn for someone to return that passion
that I extend in these clumsy strokes, notes,
words that are too plain
too small
to express the arguments of possibility.

This is what happens after watching these movies of love unrequited
but fulfilled in a manner unexpected
all the more so satisfying to the heart.

This is what occurs after reading love letters
written long ago expressing the sentiments
inflicted upon these passionate
artists, writers, composers, scientists
striving for the fulfillment of
their souls empty
without
The Other,
The One,
The Lover,

These lusts for perfection in days are an embarrassment
and laughable in their adolescent exaggerations
and childish idealism.