Temptation

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

temptation

https://dorinacostras.com/paintings/

Long lashes lowered.

Full lips over a knowing smile.

Flowing tresses that tease with their softness.

Curves that entice with her every move.

Open and willing, flaunting her needs.

Encouraging, suggesting, ignoring his ring.

****

No one will miss it.

It’s just a few dollars.

They have so much.

She has so little.

The children need shoes.

There’s no food in the cupboards and the rent is due.

So easy to slip the money,

From the cash drawer into her pocket.

****

The doctor says no.

Anymore and he’ll die.

But the need is so strong.

The struggle so fierce.

The addiction controls his every move.

****

Temptation is thrown at us from everywhere.

How we respond to it is our choice.

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The Monster Under the Bed

Excerpt from my book…Mom’s Eye View.

monster under the bed

When I was a little girl my biggest fear was the “Monster Under the Bed.” Others may have had the “Monster in the Closet,” but either way the monster was there and definitely something to be feared.

My monster lived under the bed only at night, during the day it was never there. Not when I played hide and seek with my siblings or even when I had to retrieve a toy from under the bed. It only made its presence known in the dark of the night. My imagination conjured up a monster with scales, red, glowing eyes, a mouthful of sharp, jagged teeth and a body that slithered back and forth beneath my bed, with only the box spring and mattress keeping me safe from it.

My sister and I shared the same bed and would scare one another with our silly monster stories. When we had finally worked ourselves up into a whispered state of panic we would huddle in the center of the bed, “our safe place,” and stay as far away from the edges as we possibly could. We wholeheartedly believed that if we got too close to the edge the monster would be able to reach up and grab us with its long, cutting talons; ripping us to shreds in a matter of seconds.

When we got too scared we’d comfort one another and provide each other with enough strength to get us through the night.  Upon hearing actual scurrying noises in the walls or in the ceiling, as we did most nights, we never doubted that the noises were the monster duplicating itself over and over in order to surround us and then more easily capture us and turn us into an evening meal.

We never stopped to consider that we lived in old apartment buildings that were notorious for having rat and mice infestations. To us, it was the monster and nothing else.

We’d eventually fall asleep, sticking close to one another, providing one another with comfort and support when our fears were outweighing our common sense.

My sister and I have always been this way though, we stick together and along with my other two sisters, we all can be a formidable force. As we’ve all gotten older and more independent though, we realize we don’t always have to fight each other’s monsters. But it sure is nice knowing that you’ve got someone to cover your back when the monsters decide to sneak up on you.

Lost / The Bottle

Excerpt from my book…I Heard You

Like I said…nobody gets out of this life unscathed.

drug addiction

http://www.artnet.com/artists/hu-jundi/

 

Lost

“C’mon Dad, let’s go! I’m gonna be late if you don’t get it in gear!” Kyle yells at his father.

“I’m coming, I’m coming! Just one sip of this coffee and I’ll be ready.”

“There’s no time. I gotta be at the school at nine sharp. The coach will kick me off the team if I’m late by a minute.” Kyle says.

“Fine, fine. Let’s go then. Get your gear and go get in the car.”

“My gear is already in the car. I’ve just been waiting on you,” Kyle casts a scowl in his father’s direction and slams the door of the house on his way out.

Chris mumbles to himself, “jeez-us H Christ, that kid is always in a frigging hurry.”

He gulps down the last of his coffee, burning his tongue in the process.  “Goddamnit.”

He kicks off his slippers and bends to tie up his sneakers. He shrugs on his Red Sox hoodie and then pulls on his Patriots cap in order to cover his unruly hair. He snatches his car keys off the key holder beside the door. Within minutes they’re speeding down the road to the high school.

Kyle is still visibly upset. “Oh my gawd, Dad, you always do this. You frig and fart around each time there’s a game and we always have to rush around. I hate that! I can’t wait to get my license and my own car, then I won’t have to wait for you to drive me around!”

“I know, I know. I’m sorry. I thought we had plenty of time.”

“You waited until the last minute again to even get going. I told you I had to be there by nine. Now we’ve only got ten minutes to get there! The bus is going to leave without me!”

“The bus isn’t going to leave without you, you’re the quarterback. Can’t have a game without the quarterback.”

Kyle crosses his arms and they ride the rest of the way to the school in silence.

Chris can feel his son’s anger hanging in the air between them.“C’mon, Kyle. Don’t be like that. A pissy attitude isn’t going to help you guys win this game. And you need this win, right?”

Kyle looks at his father and breaks his stony silence. “You know we do. We have to win in order to get to the playoffs.”

“You know I wanted to come to this game didn’t you?”

“But you’re not, ” Kyle says.

“I can’t,” his father hangs his head.

“So you say,” Kyle turns his head away from his father.

Chris glances in his son’s direction. “I’ve got to be at the hospital.”

Kyle snaps his head in his father’s direction. “I don’t even know why you still bother. She put herself there. She’s the one who put herself in a coma. She didn’t think about anybody else but herself when she took that shit and decided it was a good idea to go for a drive. All she’s ever thought about is herself. She can rot away in that hospital bed for all I care!”

Chris lays his hand on his son’s shoulder. “Kyle, don’t. You know that’s not true. She loved you. Still loves you and you’ll see that when she wakes up.”

Kyle shrugs off his father’s hand. “Give it up Dad, the doctor’s said she’s not going to wake up. She fried her brains and the car crash scrambled them even more. She can’t even breathe without the machines. She’s not coming back! I lost my mother a long time ago.”

Kyle feels the tears start to well up again, but bats them away with his fist.

Chris knows there’s no trying to explain things to his son. He’s been trying and trying to make him understand for the past month, but his son can’t see beyond his own anger. And Chris doesn’t blame him. He’s angry as well. At himself, for not seeing how far gone Mary was. He blames himself for not being more insistent, for accepting her excuses, for believing in her when she told him she was going to get better. He loved her too damn much to believe otherwise.

They pull into the school and Chris parks behind the bus. Kyle bursts out of the car and then opens the back door to grab his gear. He slams the back door shut and ignores his father’s shout of, “good luck!”

Chris watches Kyle get on the bus, high-fiving his buddies as he passes by them. He sees Kyle laugh at something one of his teammates say and then watches as Kyle places himself in one of the high-backed bus seats.Chris waves even though Kyle refuses to look at him through the window.

Chris watches the school bus leave the driveway and head down the road.After the bus is long gone, Chris puts his car in gear and sighs. He begins his journey to the hospital where his wife lies in a coma. A coma that was induced by the car crash his wife was in while she was high.Chris feels dread and hope at the same time. Dread that his wife hasn’t come out of her coma and the decision he may have to make on whether or not to take her off life support. And hope that she has awakened and they can begin the process of healing.

But then dread fills him once again, because if she has awakened and survived this latest ordeal, he worries that her addiction will consume her yet again and he and Kyle will again suffer through the pain of seeing a loved one battle a drug addiction that they have no control over.Chris sighs again, there is no happy ending for him or his son.

Either way Mary is lost to them..

****

The Bottle

The distance grows
The time apart seems like death

Knowing that the space will spread
Until the gap becomes a black hole

Feeling as though the tunnel is too long
Too far
To reach you

Yelling out your name
An echo my only answer
Throwing out a lifeline
Filled only with love
And hope

Begging you to grab it
In order to save you from
Your lonely solitude of depression and despair

​But the bottle
Battles me each day
Taking you further and further into the blackness

I don’t know how long I can hold on
Without eventually following you into the abyss
In order to be with you
If it’s the only way to hold you

Just Friends

Because we’ve all been here…from my poetry notebook  This Ain’t Shakespeare.

just friends

You say you want to be, just friends,

That our time together has come to an end.

After years of intense, heated passion,

You wish to close that door and firmly latch it.

Forget the whispered moans and sighs,

Forget the press of thigh upon thigh.

Feel no longer your touch upon my breast,

Your soft stroke and gentle caress.

The shivers that run up and down my spine,

As your hips repeatedly crash into mine.

The heat of your body, which blisters my own,

The hands that clasp my flesh and my composure is blown.

Your kiss, so deep, it draws me in,

The fingers that tenderly cup my chin.

Your tongue so knowing, making me plead,

Why can’t you stay? I’m begging you, please.

Just friends?

I don’t think I can.

It’s deeper than love and more than I am.

Just friends?

My love still lingers, it will not disappear.

My heart beats madly when you are near.

Just friends?

No, I’ll keep my memories of us alive.

Our love was too strong to just let it die.

You go your way,

I’ll go mine.

Leaving those years far behind.

A piece of my heart will always stay true,

Belonging unfortunately, only to you.

That’s Not Me

depression

I rarely write in depth about my personal life. What I have to say is generally through the words of a poem and the meaning is fairly obvious to those who read it. I don’t mince words and I don’t beat around the bush…I say what the hell is on my mind and the consequences be damn. But I have been struggling for years with a sort of depression that comes from things not having worked out the way I had envisioned. And I know I’m not alone in these kinds of feelings. I truly believe, everyone, at one point or another has suffered through these kinds of feelings. It’s how we deal with them that makes the difference.

When I divorced my second husband, I had in mind that my life would somehow be different, that I would be better off on my own. I didn’t want or need anyone telling me how I should or shouldn’t live my life…to insinuate that my thoughts and feelings were secondary to his. At age 46, I had had enough of that and after fifteen years of marriage to this man, I left my marriage.

I had absolutely no idea what I was supposed to do, how I would afford to take care of myself or if love would ever find me again. I fell into what the doctor’s told me was “low-grade” depression. I was prescribed anti-depressants and although they may have worked, I was uncomfortable taking drugs, so I stopped…which probably wasn’t the smartest move because whatever depression I had been feeling quickly escalated. I moped around, felt like a sloth, drank way too much wine and slept and slept and slept. I was motivated only to go to work (bills still had to paid) and would put on my happy face for my children when they visited (can’t let the kids know what a basket-case Mom was).

stronger

This went on for over two years. Even though I began dating again, I wasn’t able to give myself to the notion of a “true romance.” I fought it and felt undeserving of any sort of kindness he showed me. We never became the sort of relationship I felt I was meant for and we soon broke things off. I fell into an even deeper depression and found myself almost unable to climb out of it. I had failed at my marriage, failed at a potential relationship, I was unable to keep my finances in order, I had cut off most of my family,  and my children  were getting older and didn’t need to rely on me. Who was I, if I wasn’t a mother? A wife? Not even a girlfriend? I was nobody.

I turned inward. I filled journal after journal with crazy scribblings, rants, injustices done to me. Page after page of anger, resentment, built-up words that had gone unsaid. It poured out of me like a mad, raging thunderstorm. Cutting and slicing, the rain beating me down into a drenched mess of emotion.

And it was weird, but writing, for me, was the answer. To write the words, that had for years rolled around inside my head, seemed to give me a sense of relief, of freedom.

I never shared any of this with anyone. Those journals were for me and me only. In fact, I no longer even have them, they were ripped up and thrown into the trash years ago. I no longer needed them, I had said what I needed. Nobody else needed to read it. I doubt they would even understand the torture of feeling useless, unworthy and unneeded.

Depression is real, it makes us forget everything that’s good and beautiful in our lives. It weighs so heavily that at times we feel as though we are being smothered by the sheer enormity of it. Thoughts of suicide constantly flicker and seems like the only answer to find the relief from the black and dark places that fill our minds. It is a heavy weight that begs us to follow it into a murky cesspool.

I cannot say that my dark thoughts have disappeared, they have not, it’s not that simple. What keeps me in the light, is my children and my grandson. How completely selfish would it be of me to forget what I mean to THEM? What kind of suffering would they go through because I had decided that ending my life was the only possible solution?

But, No! I am stronger than that! I want to see my son fall in love and give his heart to another! I want to see my daughter and son-in-law, grow old together! I want to see my grandson grow into a man! These are the things that life is about.

So, I pull myself out of the cesspool and just get on with things.

happyagain

Your Love

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

when i think of you

Artwork by Tatyana Ilieva 

You’re the medley of every slow song,

That sings to my soul.

 

You’re the breeze as it moves silently through the trees,

Whispering into my ears.

 

You’re the waves of the ocean as they crash over my body,

Leaving me tingling as they slide back to regain momentum.

 

You touch me on so many different levels.

Your presence soothes me.

Your arms calm me as they hold me close.

 

Knowing you are near, whether in the same room,

Or just outside the door,

Comforts and eases my mind.

 

Your smile of happiness, your eyes filled with love,

Tell me what I need to hear.

 

Your heart beating into my ear, as I lie against your chest,

Speaks to my own heart.

 

Burying my face into your pillow,

After you’ve left.

Your warmth still lingers,

Bringing a smile to my face.

 

If this day were to be my last

I’d be thankful that you had shared your love with me.

 

 

 

 

What Does She Know

From my poetry notebook…This Ain’t Shakespeare.

what does she know

What does a young girl know?

More than she should.

 

How to keep from getting a fist in the face,

By going down on her knees.

 

How to avoid the biting sting of a slender tree limb,

By lying helplessly on her back and succumbing to force.

 

How to stop the lash of a black, leather belt,

By surrendering her body to what she knows is wrong.

 

What else is a young girl taught?

Things she should never be taught.

 

Not to trust,

Because trust leads to disappointment.

 

How to deceive,

Because her entire life is a lie.

 

How to present a smile to the world,

When inside she’s drowning in her own tears.

 

Not to believe what is shown in the mirror.

Because her eyes see a pretty, little girl.

But her mind sees a child, ugly and twisted.

 

What else does a young girl know?

Exactly what she needs to.

 

She learns to survive.

To hibernate in her own silent shell.

To build up invisible walls.

That even hurt cannot penetrate.

 

She learns to free her mind from her body.

To a place where they can co-exist,

Without falling to pieces.

 

This is what a young girl learns…

From her father.