Breaking Up Is Hard To Do

Posted on June 29, 2010

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Even though I’ve had some extracurricular activities lately that were diverting, and a very good and promising date with the Republican, a big piece of my heart is still with Lieu. The distractions have helped–and I hate to quantify them as merely distractions, because my Republican dates were genuinely good by any standard, and I don’t want to cheapen them–but he’s still in my head, the one toward whom my thoughts drift. I still want to know what shirt he’s wearing, and what he ate for lunch, and when I might hear from him again. It’s just a habit, I know, and one that gets dumber and dumber by the day. I’m working on getting rid of it, but it isn’t easy.

I haven’t been sleeping well. I think it’s a side effect of my new, mojo-friendly meds. So I’ve been up late fretting and cleaning, coloring my hair and folding laundry and trying to bend the will of the universe with the power of my mind. It hasn’t worked (and the hair coloring in particular was an unmitigated disaster). I’ve also been passing time reading poetry, an old passion of mine that has come back to me lately with force. As long as this blog is anonymous and only two people I know read it, I’ll go ahead and post one I scribbled down last night. It has to be the first poem I’ve written in 15 years. It’s a bit trite but I kind of like the rhythm.

I promise on all that’s holy not to turn this into a blog about poetry, particularly my own marginalia. But one can’t hurt.

domestic blues

why do i
leave the dishes in the sink
litter the counter with crusts of bread
contort myself over what you think
let you take root inside my head

why must i
seek the fruit with the hidden bruise
leave the unblemished upon the shelf
nurture love that just deludes
know your mind yet fool myself

why should i
shake covers over the rumpled bed
plump the pillows, smooth the case
if it will never again know the weight of your head
nor caress your flushed and well-loved face

when can i
sweep the crumbs on out the door
dust your fingerprints away
pick myself up off the floor
stand to greet the lonely day

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