Category: Women Who Think to Much

Such a perfect couple…

Such a perfect couple, people always say…
They don’t know that for so many years we have said the same sentences.
“Don’t talk to me that way.”
“I talk to you that way because you made me so mad.”
“Well, that doesn’t give you the right to talk to me that way.”
“Yeah, I know.”
I believe we have said just that paragraph over five thousand times.
Exactly like that, except now and then a f’n works its way through.
So, now it’s decision time.
Because I keep repeating the same sentences too.
How do I change the script?
Our responses are so automatic.
Can you actually change within a destructive relationship or do you have to leave it?
I learned a long time ago, that you alone are responsible for what you accept from other people. I have accepted verbal abuse.
I am also responsible for how I respond to other people. I’ve become angry enough to start screaming right back at you. I don’t want to be that woman.
I don’t know how to be near you without being angry anymore and that scares me.
Can I change? Can you change?
I guess we would have if we could have.
Such a perfect couple people always say…

That feeling…

that feeling
you know
that one
that turns your blood to ice
fear that overwhelms you
when you get a phone call
in the middle of the night.
that feeling
you know
that one
that sucks the air
from your lungs
because you know
when you answer
that phone
because you know
that one call
will change
your life forever.
i had that feeling today
when i remembered
that you’re not coming back
and it really is over.
that feeling.

Our Love Is Only

Our love is only valuable when we’re apart.
It becomes so intensely sad, wild and mystical that
I can almost forget where we were when you left.
When we’re together it’s no, I didn’t, yes, you did.
Crying and fighting and tears and yelling.
Boundaries that should never have been crossed.
Now it’s  two-thirty a.m.
and sleeping is what I should be doing
but your nice words from tonight
are swirling in my head, lingering
as I ache for your warmth in my bed.
Talking to you is so hard and so painful
as your voice awakens my anger
that we are doing this once more
and I have to live without you
when that wasn’t what I wanted.
Your current kindness stirs my grief
into a big old mess of confusion and regret.
The train is blowing through town
the whistle long, drawn out and melancholy
just like when you were here.
Now it’s three-thirty and sleep is just a thought.
I want what we didn’t have
I want what I thought we had
even as there’s no way back
to what I thought we had
for the first few years because
it was something that didn’t exist.
It’s five a.m. and as soon
as I shut my eyes the tears fall.
That’s why I don’t shut them.
Sitting alone in the house
that you pay for, the house
that is everything that I didn’t want,
but it didn’t matter what I wanted.
Watching the sun come up
behind the trees
as the tears go down.
Our love is only valuable when we’re apart.

I Cry Because

I cry, not because you’re gone, no
it’s that you left me so many years ago.
I’ve realized it was a lie, I’ve been sleeping with
and snuggling against the enemy’s back
dancing with demons in my bed
holding my breath to give you air
for thirty years too long.
I cry because
I refuse to love you anymore and
love’s removal leaves a gaping wound.
You pulled me close, then
you pushed me away so hard
you bruised my tender soul.
Over and over and said it was my fault
while I bloodied myself in battles
you had already won.
I cry because your love
was just an illusion, a reward
that I could never earn.
I cry because
I lost a love I never had at all.

Dance With Me Woman

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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Dance With Me Woman

He yanks the crippled woman

Out onto the slick dance floor.

As he stumbles over her heart, he asks,

“Don’t you like to dance anymore?”

Her brown eyes vacant, not unlike a corpse

She silently gazes up at his handsome face.

Her words are lodged in her throat

Obstructed by injuries that time can’t erase.

There’s no crazy glue that’d bind her

Or mend her tattered faith

She’s just a fragment of herself

So, they waltz, standing in place.

by Jeanne Marie

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Every Mile Mattered

I have decided to live every day like it is my first and my last and to not worry about all the years I spent spinning my wheels.
Because when you come down to it, it was all about life trying to teach me what really mattered, and every step I took mattered, right or wrong.
I just wish I wasn’t such a slow learner and that I had trusted myself more and feared less.

You Said

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You said that you’re proud of me
you said that I am strong
you said that I am beautiful
you said that I am kind
you said that you were wrong.
It would have been awesome
if you had said those words to me
before it was too late.

What’s Left

If we could have
we would have
but we couldn’t
and this is what’s left…
Empty arms, your clothes
folded on the bureau
two extra pillows
that I tuck around me
so I can fall asleep
left over love
your favorite glass
wedding photos
your old tee-shirt
guitars in the cellar
pictures of us kissing
between each fight and
two lonely Chihuahuas
confused, waiting
to hear your truck
pull in the drive.

Where I Am Less

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

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Where I Am Less
Knew coming through the door
happy, relaxed, smiling
there would be a price to pay.
Saw the tension on your face
waiting for me to take my place
beside you, where I belong…
on the couch
where I am less.
Went out on my own
played all day with a friend
not depressed, not alone.
daring to smile,
shut off the phone.
foolish woman
I am back home…
on the couch
where I am less.

by Jeanne Marie

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As I Go

I must leave pieces of myself behind
as I go and that used to frustrate me.
I wanted to gather up all the pieces
and take them with me
wherever I was going.
But I can’t gather up all the pieces
I already laid down…
I know because I have tried.
The flowers I planted
roses and lilacs and
daisies and sunflowers,
gathered with you by my side.
They must stay.
Even you cannot come with me this time.
I am giving you back your heart.
The raspberry bushes I have grown
the bed we sleep in…
I have to leave it all behind.
There is no other way.
As I prepare to leave the life
that I’ve poured my worth into
I realize I will be leaving
pieces of my spirit
as I move on to another place
another garden, another season.
I think I like the idea of leaving behind
pieces of my spirit because maybe, just maybe,
those little pieces of me were blessed
and they will comfort you.
Maybe one of my sunflowers will burst
from the earth I turned and help
your hurting heart smile again.
And maybe, just maybe, we’re supposed to
leave precious pieces of ourselves behind
to nurture others as we move on.
It is not easy but I must,
I must leave pieces of myself
behind as I go.
2018 Jeanne Marie

Waves

 

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Enjoy the waves of peace and happiness while you are riding high.
Soak up the sun and the sweetness so you will be strong when the waves crash down, because they will crash down.
Always have faith and believe that although the waves cannot last, they will rise again…
Waves will lift you up above your brokenness over and over.
That is what waves do.

The Princess

The Princess was sitting in her castle and she swore no man would she let woo.

She turned them all away as she said, no, not you, not you, not you, to myself I will be true.

She danced with her butterflies, she twirled in her flower gardens like when she was two.

She whispered to her flowers, confessing, I love you and you and you.

So happy was this woman that she vowed never to wed and then a Knight in dazzling armor appeared at the castle gates, the sun shining on his head.

She was blinded by his beauty, aura like spun gold and this one Knight she invited to her bed, visions of together growing old.

Prince Charming was his name and wow, that man tickled her fancy with his soft kiss and even if he just walked by, she would stumble and a step she would miss.

Well, we all know about no such thing as happy endings and soon the Princess gave up her other loves, like her writing.

She was busy twisting and turning and bending to keep the Prince happy, looking in her mirror-mirror and often sitting there silently for hours.

The Prince started kissing her less and less often and his voice for her…he no longer softened.

Many nights she cried herself to sleep, under so many full moons…she would weep and weep and weep.

Many moons later, she came to her senses, had the guards toss the Prince out and around her old gardens she built stronger fences.

This is a true story and you know it’s true, because I was the Princess and you, you were the Knight I gave my heart too.

Silly Princess, Stupid Boy, hard lessons, me and you.

Other’s Eyes

Butterflies flit around my face

morning does not stay

minutes turns to hours

as I duel with weeds and play.

I go out front and gasp

stock-still, in awe I stand

loving flowers of every hue

petals are caressed with hand.

Sun sets, splashing orange

and yellow across the sky

stunning, breathtaking

fiery colors fast-slipping by.

“Dear God, is this all just for me?”

“Child of nature, thumbs of green

butterfly whisperer, home garden queen,

send your pictures to other’s eyes

and they will bless all who see.

by Jeanne Marie

No Longer The Girl…

women who think too much's avatarWomen Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie

princess2
I am no longer the girl you first touched, held, caressed and loved.
I am much older now. I know too much to play Cinderella to your Prince Charming, although I still love you.
I am no longer a girl at all.
The girl grew weary of childish games and a woman stands in her place.
I can’t play Tinkerbell to your Peter Pan, not anymore.
I am woman who knows what she wants most of the time and I definitely know what I don’t want, all of the time.
I have grown-up. Changed.
In some ways for the better and I’ll admit this, in some ways maybe not so better.
As I fight to make my own choices and live my life inside the confines of this codependent relationship, I am often frustrated and angry.
Sometimes, I feel as if I’m walking on floors of Jello surrounded by walls of melting wax.
The rules change as…

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Full Moon Rises

Soul wanders
through the darkness
searching for your light.
It floats blind and lost
searching behind
the  stars each night.
Heat remembered
frustrates and
fuels the fire.
Full moon rises
sparking rebellion,
tears and desire.
I want! I want!
soul screams out
to the empty night.
Its over. It’s over.
Must be accepted
by each daylight.

Someone Like You

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I didn’t know
I could be broken
until I was shattered.
I thought I was stronger
and it wouldn’t matter
after all I’d been through.
I just wasn’t counting on
being destroyed by love
I just wasn’t counting on
someone like you.

Prime Time

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Commercials of women
Floating so sensuously
Through fields of daisies
Makes me feel old
Because I don’t dream
Floating dreams anymore.
My feet are on the ground
Set deep in reality, while
Gray runs through my hair.
I drifted in mid-air for a time
Until life and maturity
Caught me and I came down.
Swirling, endless descent
No daisies to sweeten
My head-first fall.
I wish that life were a commercial
And that I had a choice
Before I sponsored this show.

 

 

I Can

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I can bring the rain when there is a drought.

I can change the color of the clouds

using the sun to turn them inside out.

I can change the leaves on an orange tree

turn them to red in shades of fifty-three.

But, I can’t make you love me.

Wordless Wednesday

I Am Glass

I am glass and I am broken.
I am damaged.
Stay back
because
my sharp edges
will cut you
and my pain
will slice you.
My insanity will crush you
as my love chokes you.
I am glass and I am broken.

I Unwish The Wish…

My mind is clouded with thoughts
but none that I can speak.
The words have all been spoken and
thoughts disintegrate as I attempt
to form words that I could say.
My mind is burdened with memories
but I have no more sentences for you.
I wish I did.
My words will not make sense to you
as your’s make none to me,
we said everything that we could say
the silence is deafening
as we stare at the damn TV.
I wish…I wish…
I could just show you my heart
and that I could see yours
so that we could understand.
Then I remember how hard we
struggle with each other’s reality
and we don’t have a backup plan.
So I unwish the wish and
I write words that are my truth
over and over again.
Hoping my head will believe
the words that my soul writes.

Choices

She started to think about what she wanted to experience before she died and it went like this…she wanted to be made love to like he had never seen her before and she was the most precious thing in the world that he could ever touch or possess.
She wanted him to say her smile made his day and lit up his world.
She wanted him to hold her as he was sleeping, wrapped all around her and never letting go all night.
She wanted to dance around the bedroom with him at midnight. Dancing slow, to a country love song, held so tight she could barely breathe, dancing with the man she loved as he whispered, “I am so sorry, I didn’t know how much I loved you,” in her ear.
She wanted to be loved like that once more before she died.

Lost

belive
Sometimes I get lost inside my own mind

My body becomes just a shell

I forget who I am and where I wanted to go

I know it’s awful for you to watch me

Trapped inside myself, my blackness is hell.

My mind and my heart feel empty

With echoes of the past all that I can hear

I don’t mean to leave you to sit alone

But sometimes I’m just not here.

I don’t know where I go, yet it feels familiar.

I close my eyes and I fall down into sleep

Waves of calm wash through my bones, my mind

There. Now I don’t have to decide, feel or think.

I know I was broken, brain, soul and spirit

And there is no extra sticky glue

No modern pill or magic potion

That could bring me back,

Mended, to you.

If only I had known how sad

Together would turn out to be,

After you cut open my heart,

I would have walked away

And one of us would have been free.

by Jeanne Marie

Self-Destruct

I ran into a summer life
I tried it on
I tasted it
I loved it
I lost it
and I ran back to snow.
Why I didn’t keep on
tasting
loving
finding
I’ll never know.
Fear grabbed the wheel
drove me quite mad.
Panic navigated, flying
through mountains
sliding across icy roads,
dumped me back here
freezing in the bitter snow.

I Cannot Sleep. The Cats Are Crying.


On my garage stoop the cats are gathered
crying into the damp, dark mist that rises before dawn.
Sitting in a circle, they howl and whine and mew
like old women with a dilemma to ponder anew.
Another stray arrives but softly cries outside the circle
whimpering as he pleads for admission to the klatch.
The cats howl and whine and mew among themselves
and one fat grey cat snarls his veto. He is out-voted.
The sitting cats become silent and look into each
other’s glowing eyes, then, as one, they turn
their sullen eyes to gaze upon the stranger.
Their silence is inviting so the tenderfoot softly
pads into the circle and sits submissive.
The conversation resumes.
Cold air turning warm breath into smoke and eerie whispers
forming smoky words which crawl into my veins, raising hairs,
fears that have no name, foundation for terror that blooms.
There are no refreshments but the cats don’t seem to mind
stray cats are used to hunger, thirst, cold tea bags
and cigarette butts in the trash can-food that they find.
I’d set out milk and cookies if the cats were inviting
but although a stray myself, their yellow glares
remind me, I don’t belong. I’m not their kind.
The whining, mewling voices grow louder
anger colored by painful memories obviously arises.
Entranced, I listen in silence from my porch until
the meeting is adjourned, ending with screams of rage.
The strays go their separate ways, running,
running to the four corners of my fields.
One mangy calico remains at post beneath my window
to plead their case, to keep the vigil.
Crying with a newborn baby’s wail to my empty arms
while from the fields, the stray’s cries drift back to my ears.
I cannot sleep. The cats are crying.
I used to let them sleep in the garage but they peed on the racecar
and they crapped on the Snap-On tools.
They had heat, food and water, ladders to climb the rafters
but then, aren’t all stray cats a little rude?
I fed my babies milk and cookies
Nevertheless, I let their innocence die, so who am I to say?
Because in a perfect world they’d be no unwanted
babies, kids or cats called stray.
Babies whose only crime was that they sat on wells of oil
immobilized by a terrorist regime which ruled their world.
Their frightened eyes filled the TV cameras
which sent their pleas out to the masses.
Set them free from the terror we heard every day
so, we sent our sons and husbands and let them die.
War does not set babies free as we were led to believe
It is a power play to reline the coffers of the rich
deadly support for the hungry powers that we feed.
Yes, in a perfect world they’d be no unwanted
babies, kids or cats called stray.
I cannot sleep. The cats are crying.