She used to climb apple trees
with fearless abandon
never worried how she’d get down.
She used to run in fields of grass
without a care in the world.
She used to hide in the flowers
inhaling the nectar
never fearing a sting.
I’d like to invite that girl
to come out to play.
I’d like to reclaim her
travel the path back
to that courageous girl
she who once lived free.
I must go on
Wake up
Drink coffee
Smoke a cigarette
Say words
Take a shower
Curl my hair
Do the dishes
Mop the floors
Fold the laundry
Weed the garden
Remember to breathe
Remember to eat
Fake a smile
Crush the memories
I must go on
Without you
Right?
2015
Now that you’re 1200 miles away
everything I think about
when I picture you and me
none of it is real, it’s just a fading fantasy.
When I miss your arms around me
I’m not thinking about the fights
when I miss your kisses and I miss your smile
I’m not thinking about all the lonely nights.
I’m not thinking about when you laid beside me
in this very same bed, and I cried myself to sleep
and wished that I was dead.
I’m thinking about the good times
the times you held my hand,
the rare times when it all felt so right.
I’m dancing with you under the stars
a story living only inside my head.
Why does distance make the love
feel sweeter than it ever tasted?
Why does lonely recolor the pictures?
Why does absence rewrite the memories
hidden under this very same bed?
Please love, let me go easy
I’m already broken.
Already said all the mean words
A to Z, they’ve all been spoken.
No need to repeat
no need to fight.
I’m down for the count
I admit I’ve been beat.
Open your hands
with memories of love
and just let me go.
I’d stay if I could love you
or if you could love me
just as we are.
But, we can’t and we both know.
So, please open the door and
with gentleness, let me go.
I can’t do the anger and I can’t do the pain
I can’t stand still while we throw curses
slapping each other’s face with blame.
I can’t watch us die
as we stomp on each other’s heart.
Please love, let me go easy
I’m already broken.
You let me cook
You let me clean
I wash our clothes
I sweep up my dreams.
You let me shop
You let me sew
I have it all
Computers, books and clothes.
You don’t let me
See how you feel
You don’t let me near
Any part of you that’s real.
You don’t let me
Close in our
King size bed
I rebel, but only inside my head.
You don’t let me
Love you
I don’t know why
I know one day, I won’t even try.
5-8-13
She walks
Along the cliff’s edge
Looking down.
Behind her
A ravine of lies,
And the man
She loves.
Shattered dreams
Are all she wears,
They are her only cover
From the icy rain.
He walks
Behind her,
Listening with her to
The waves, crashing below.
The thunder booms!
The lightning strikes!
The ground quakes!
She is afraid.
How could she dare to love?
He waits.
He cannot save her
His love sent her to the edge,
He cannot touch her
Or she will jump,
So he stays behind her.
She weighs the choices
While she plays with her life,
Balance a thing of the past
She walks along the cliff’s edge.
1989
darkness
fits me
like a glove
vast waves of pain
and sorrow
searching, aching
for a sign
from up above
searching
for a reason
to face tomorrow
true disciple
straying from
the flock
no reason
to wake up
damn that
alarm clock.
1990
I didn’t realize that the last box would be the heaviest
not until I stumbled with it down what is now your drive.
Tears flowing unchecked were blocking my common sense.
Crying, remembering when our desire was alive.
Shoved the box in the van, slammed my door closed
then I checked the garage for things forgotten.
Taped to your toolbox, I saw your favorite picture of me
the one you promoted from your wallet
to the dashboard of your race car, a Vega, 1973.
My image inspired you as you raced
or so you used to say.
I guess the week you yanked me from the car
was the week you drove your Vega to first place.
The house looks deserted, the grounds unkempt and unloved.
Summer heat has burned the lilac bush and turned my roses brown.
Flowers struggle among the weeds, most have died, died to set me free.
The angel trumpets and morning glories alone proclaim
that once I touched the earth around your home with love.
I bend over to rescue the flowers setting dead in plastic pots,
and then I set them back down.
I can’t save what’s been killed with neglect, I know. I know. I’ve tried.
I knew what would happen when I stopped the watering that kept them alive.
I carried out the last box, tonight as the sun was going down
it was so much heavier than the first and
the weight really caught me by surprise.
I patted the morning glories goodbye, watered them with tears.
I climbed into my van, remembering your words the day you bought it.
As you handed me the keys, you softly said,
“There, now you can take all your stuff the next time that you decide to leave.”
I shifted into reverse, held down the brake and laid my head on the steering wheel to cry.
Crying because; still, I love you, crying for all that we lost.
The last box was the heaviest, so much heavier than the first
how could I have known that the last box
would weigh me down the worst?
1999
He flung the cage door open and shouted at the bird, fly away…
She shivered, and she shook and she fluttered her wings
when nothing happened she just called it a day.
Maybe tomorrow I’ll be free, is what she sings.
He covers the cage for the night with a smirk on his face,
Never even bothers to close the cage door.
He knows she will stay in place because he clipped her wings,
of that he is sure.
Am I holding on or am I letting go?
I can’t tell anymore.
There is no roadmap back to
where I used to know.
Now that you’re gone, it seems…
I’m mostly missing the woman
love erased, she, who used to be.
I feel shards of her remaining
I just can’t seem to find the glue,
did it perhaps slip into your suitcase
and fly out of my reach with you?
1989
1989
1989
Roses are my favorite, 1989
I am my own wife now and I’m finding out just how good I’m going to treat myself.
Am I going to be a good wife or a bad wife?
I didn’t start out very good. I almost starved to death.
I forgot to eat because there was no one to cook for and I didn’t have anybody asking me, what’s to eat, what’s for lunch, what’s for supper, do you want to go out to eat, do you want me to go get something?
I was in a food vacuum, food just didn’t exist.
What I noticed was my deodorant wasn’t working, so I changed brands several times and when that didn’t help, I started to do some research on Google to find out what strange illness I might have that was causing an odor deodorant couldn’t manage.
I found out that I wasn’t putting enough food into my body and that my body was burning muscle to survive. The odor was from being in a state of starvation. I was shocked. I knew I had to eat to live, but I didn’t know I could die from not eating enough.
I had been wasting away and I hadn’t even noticed.
I took off my clothes to take a look at my body and it wasn’t good. Skin and bones.
I couldn’t remember the last time I had been hungry. I had already lost too much weight before my husband and I separated and the scale reported that I’d dropped ten more pounds and I hadn’t even noticed.
I had been eating yogurt and an egg once or twice a week, a couple of spoonfuls of peanut butter every day, but my body was not happy and it wanted some real food.
I learned that once you are in the starvation mode, it gets dangerous. I had to start to eat slowly because starvation damages the heart and I could actually have a heart attack if I started to eat too quickly.
I went to the store and I bought more than just peanut butter, coffee, milk and dog food.
I searched for food that I used to like, so I could tempt myself to eat. I stood there crying because I could barely remember what I liked.
Just shopping for groceries was traumatic. I hadn’t shopped for groceries since my husband retired. We used to joke that he was the wife now and he said I could just write while he took care of cooking, shopping and helped with laundry.
It wasn’t really funny. I stopped shopping a few months after he retired because whatever I brought home wasn’t right, wrong brand, wrong price, wrong flavor. I stopped cooking because he would disagree with the what, the how, the why and the end result. I wasn’t even able to feed the dogs the way he wanted, and if I made my own coffee he would ask why I didn’t have him make it for me.
To some, it looked like I was a pampered princess, but I was actually removed from my kitchen. His at home-ness led to my retirement as a wife. He took over the bills, the kitchen, the shopping and the dogs and I allowed it. I gave up.
So I am my own wife now. It’s been five months, and I am treating myself much better, but it takes awareness and effort. I spoiled my husband and my kids forever, so I know how to do it, I just have to turn that love towards myself.
I started eating slowly. I started cooking for myself for the first time in years. Actual meals. My daughter and grandson come over for supper at least twice a week now and that motivates me to cook. I’ve only gained a pound, but I’m back to my favorite deodorant and it works.
The dogs are happy and well fed, so it turns out that I do know how to feed them. I haven’t cried at the grocery store lately, so I believe I am learning to be a good wife. To myself.
Less
Hunger
Where is…
JM, 1986
I’m laying our marriage down
putting it to sleep
a mercy killing that for us is best
laying till death do we part promises to rest.
I’m unplugging the life support
so maybe I can revive my heart
because there is more pain than love left.
a bed where passion died a horrible death
a living room where loyalty was beat
a kitchen you drove me out of
because I couldn’t do it right.
I wish I could cremate us
instead of dismantling us piece by piece
but I suppose that’s exactly what we’ve done
burnt our bridges until two now exist as ones.
I’m Beautiful
I’m trying to de-clutter my life and unravel my mind.
Yesterday, I threw my thirty-five-year-old, size five wedding heels in the trash. I tried on a lot of shoes before I found the perfect heels. They were important. My future mother-in-law bought them for me. She wasn’t impressed by her son marrying a woman with three kids, so they were a peace-offering.
The heels have stuck around. They made the cut every time I packed. They have been with us to fifteen houses and a dozen apartments.
I had hoped to wear them again, maybe on an anniversary, but that’s not going to happen.
My feet are no longer small and petite, and my husband and I have separated.
I looked at the shoes laying there in the trash, taunting me, reminding me of my wedding day, and I pushed them in deeper. I instantly panicked, but I took deep breaths and I walked away.
Later, I carried the bag outside to the trash can.
Today, I was out front tearing open the trash bags. Coffee grounds, dog’s pee papers, egg shells and dirty paper plates, I found.
No shoes.
I gave up easy, compared to my norm.
I’m not a quitter. I held on to those heels for thirty-five years.
I stopped because I knew it was hopeless.
I could save the heels. But I couldn’t save us.
I’m strong and I’m weak. I’m resisting the urge to go back out there now.
I just want the trash truck to come and take the heels away before I give in to my compulsion to bring them back into the house.
If I can leave the heels in the trash, maybe I’ll make it through this after all.
P.S. The trash men came and the shoes have gone to their final resting place.
Women Who Think Too Much by Jeanne Marie 
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