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What If It Wasn’t Real

Byjack
What If It Wasn’t Real

She used to message me and beg me to get on to play
I thought she needed me then
Loved spending time together
We would joke
And talk about life
Little things
These days she plays
Without me
It’s me who asks
And she reluctantly accepts
In the game, she’s all anger and frustration
She hates the game
She hates the teammates
She hates me
And she hates herself
She denied that she ever had fun with me today
Says she can’t remember the last time we played
That I annoy her
That we need to win if we play
That we just don’t work together
“I like small talk,” she says about her new friends
“We are too busy asking about favorite colors”
“For me to be mad”
I remember a time we asked each other our favorite colors
I wonder if it was less special than I thought
Or if her new friends are more special than me
Its doubt that destroys love
Not hate or anger
Doubt eating away at a foundation so strong
It promised forever
Today I worry
If I left
Would she even notice
Over the laughter
Of her new friends

This poem is about feeling like what you thought you both cherished, only you actually cherished. That there wasn’t a connection at the level that I originally thought.

If that is actually true, I don’t feel heartbroken. Only depressed. So incredibly disappointed that everything was not as special as I thought it was. It takes me back to my dark places, wondering if anyone could truly love me.

Part of me knows it’s more complicated than that. That there is still hope for us. Still hope for me.

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To Explore Love

Byjack
Who She Is For Me

When I’m with her

I feel I can be so ugly

So weak

So bad

So hurtful

And yet I feel safe

Like I can stop checking

Her face for signs of anger

Stop feeling ashamed, worried

It surprises me how calm I feel

When my mask is off around her

Her acceptance like a balm for my soul

Her love can

Make her helpless

Like the most beautiful creature

So vulnerable

She would endure

Pain if it means my pleasure

I like to explore life

And uncover it’s discoveries

Now I can have someone to share them with

It’s like

She can hear music in my mind

Of imagination, of beautiful ideas, of glory

And she smiles at me

Like we have a joke only we know

When I am struck with pain

Like an animal looking for its home

I seek her warmth

And her love is like a blanket

I can snuggle deep within

Protected from the world

Sometimes, we are just laughing

She’s shining as brightly as a star

It’s like the kind fun

You only find

As a kid on a playground

When she is hurting

I want to take her pain

Spread it around

So I can see her smile again

She is strong-willed

And I’m grinning

When she leads me by the hand

And shows me the world

Through her eyes

And all I can think sometimes

Is how much I love her

I Was Wondering What Would Happen If

I feel open

Like a canvas ready for paint

No future

No expectations

No obligations

Only action

Or no action

I didn’t pick up the phone

Except for the time

When I really felt like it

When I open my mouth

My words are driven

By the moment

In the freedom

Of saying fuck it

I’ll do what I feel like

I dream at night

For a relaxed afternoon

Sipping tea

And beauty

Both sweet and ordinary

When when I’m done wondering

We pass on

With happy memories

Like the lasting sweetness

Of a candy

Melted in your mouth

These two poems are comparing the feelings I have for two things – the girl who I want to wait for, and the experience of dating around that I want to explore in the meantime. I was trying to reconcile them and understand how they can coexist.

Some thoughts:

  • I used to think I had to be super upfront about not wanting anything serious when dating. I don’t think so anymore. I will only explain if asked by the girl or if there comes a time where I feel I need to explain it (she is getting too invested). Most girls don’t even care until they develop feelings since they have an abundance of men.
  • I used to reach out to people even when I didn’t want to (usually because I felt guilt since I knew the girl liked me and I didn’t want to hurt her/lose her). I’m not gonna do that anymore. I’ll basically treat them like guy friends. If there is something I want to say, or do with them, I will reach out. Otherwise, I’ll say nothing, make no effort.
  • I’m afraid that I will mess up the beautiful connection I have with the girl I am waiting for by dating. I decided to stop pushing down that fear. It is happening for a good reason. As soon as I feel scared, unsafe, or distracted I should just stop dating and refocus on her. I never went into this to replace her and I should keep her as my top priority.
  • I worry about meeting women so attractive I will forget about the girl I am waiting for. Honestly, this might happen at first, but I think at the end of the day, personality matters much much more to me. I think I would only be distracted by looks because I haven’t dated before. As long as someone is attractive ENOUGH, if I love them, they will be the most beautiful woman in the world to me.
  • Overall, I should worry less about hurting women since they aren’t like men (have only one or two women to talk to). They usually have lots of men and could care less if I stopped talking to them. I can still be compassionate without overcompensating (for my fear of being an asshole).
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Happy Without Me

Byjack
Happy Without Me

I’m scared

That you will like him

More than you ever liked me

That he will see your beauty want to win you over

Just like how I felt

When I first heard your voice

In a way,

I’m glad that I feel the anger and desperation

That it makes me feel the passion again

Want you to be mine

But I remember another time

When I felt like I was left behind for someone better

That I felt not good enough

And I wonder if you would like someone new

Like the first bite of an apple

Before the taste grows boring in your mouth

Sometimes I’m confused

Whether I’m pushing or pulling

Like the dream I had about you sitting next to me on a train

Your curls framing your face

So warm

Even with the beautiful view outside

I only had eyes for you

And the morning when I wondered what it would be like

To treat dating like another adventure

A new face every day

A new smile

Do you ever wonder the same?

Have you already felt so?

Did you wonder today?

When forget to ask me

If I still felt sick

 

This poem is about the painful feeling of desperation and jealousy when you are not always the center of someone’s world. Beyond the feeling is the passion you feel when you remember how desirable someone is.

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Water In the Basement

Byjack
Water in the Basement

There was water in the basement today

My mom handed me a garbage bag

To throw away things

That we couldn’t wash

The saddest thing

Was a cardboard sculpture of myself

Because I knew

It was sodden and sad

Paper hair plastered on the side

Like a sad version of a bad hair day

I remembered when it was new

When my art professor told us about Chris Gilmour

The sculptor who used cardboard instead of stone

Intricate cars and motorcyles

Precisely detailed in warm brown

And gave us the assignment to create a sculpture of ourselves

But my sculpture

Wasn’t like Gilmour’s at all

It was all messy cardboard

Hot glued together

It didn’t look like me

But it felt like me

When I looked into the eyes

I remembered the way I felt

My mind was all stars and night and imagination

Some part of me

Is afraid to let it go

It’s a familiar sad feeling

Like what I felt when I let go of the girl I loved

Only

This time

The person I’m letting go of

Is the person

Who made the sculpture

Years ago

When I look at this sculpture that I made in wood and mixed media class, I remember what I felt in college. So young and full of promise. That I could be anything, do anything. That I didn’t have to think about the rest of my life. Part of me always wants to go back. And it is hard to admit that that part of my life is over.

I think about this when I wait for nighttime. It is nighttime when I will see how things are going to unfold. I hope she will show me her vulnerable side, her emotional side again. The parts of her that I knew I needed in my life when I first met her. But I know, I cannot force her to be that person for me. That there is a possibility, that she won’t. That she will be closed and I’m so sad that I may have to say goodbye to the person I was when I was in love with her.

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In The Wreckage

Byjack
In The Wreckage

As I sit in the wreckage of my life

The pieces, strewn about the floor around my feet

I wonder

Has she read my messages

Does she now know

That it was all a misunderstanding

And that only by leaving

Did I finally draw out the truth

That could have prevented everything

I wonder what will happen next

And how I can stand up again

When all I want to do

Is lie on the ground

Curled up

Like a hibernating bear

Waiting for the summer

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Even If She Wanted Me Back

Byjack
Even If She Wanted Me Back

Even if she wanted me back

I wonder

Will it be like before

No secrets between us

No unspoken words

Or will I feel like I’m on a sinking ship

The water at my chest

Threatening to drown me

The words she used to hurt me

Only hurt

Because I trusted her enough

To expose my naked heart

I know if she asks

I will try to open my heart again

But I worry

That invisible locks

Have already formed

To protect me

And she doesn’t have the willpower

To find the keys

 

I am scared knowing that the amount of pain between us may be too much to overcome. Pain is always an invitation for growth, but how much is someone willing to grow? I worry sometimes I made a huge mistake. I did it because of the feeling that it was over already. That staying would have been just trying to push along a dream, squeeze out the last bit of real connection that we had. I felt that I had to try to give things enough space for perspective. I wonder sometimes if she even has the capability to feel the love I felt for her. Whether it was just an obsession for her, when it was love for me.

I’m Not Ashamed That I Loved Her

Byjack

She told me that I would have been ashamed to tell my family or my therapist. But it wasn’t true. It wasn’t true because I would have explained that I loved her.

I loved her when she told me that when I left she cried for so long she threw up. I knew then she must have seen something special in me just like I saw something special in her.

I loved her when she made me laugh and smile at the stupidest things. I loved her when we would banter back and forth with insults.

I loved her when she told me that I needed to tell her when I got to my hotel late in California because she was scared she would lose me.

I loved her when she sent me a playlist of songs, beautiful songs, handpicked by her.

I loved her when she tried. Even when I made her uncomfortable. Even when I was mad at her.

I loved her when she was tired and would open up about the things in her life that troubled her. Things about her family. Things about her life.

I loved her when she told me she read my blog every morning.

I loved her when I was needy. So annoyingly needy,  but she was nothing but caring and reassuring.

I loved her when she would ask me why I was ignoring her, if I was driving and couldn’t respond right away.

I loved her when I came back from a meeting and would find so many messages from her, like gifts waiting to be opened.

I loved her when we used to talk on the phone for hours, and it never felt longer than a few minutes.

I loved her intelligence, her passion, her humor, her taste in music, her compassion and warmth, her emotions, her feminine side. She understood everything I said to her. Whether it was a dumb joke or my life philosophy. She had a deep emotional intelligence. She knew when she was avoiding the truth and what the truth was. She was immature at times. She gave up easily. She was self-destructive. She preferred to avoid her problems instead of dealing with them. She liked distractions. She was vindictive when she was angry. She liked to cry. She was embarrassed easily. I loved her for all of that.

 

She tells me now everything was a lie. What a beautiful lie to love.

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And I Didn’t Cry

Byjack
And I Didn’t Cry

It was on my run that I decided, I needed to leave

Dread in my heart

Peace in my head

And I didn’t cry

I told her shortly after

Fear in my head

Anxiety in my stomach

And I didn’t cry

I saw the message she sent me

Pain in my soul

Shame on skin

And I didn’t cry

Tonight I told a council of kings

Of a girl I loved

Too young

Too far

Too virtual

I told them I knew it was still special

I told them that I knew she gave up

I told them that I knew I had let go

That I cannot fix or change someone

Just because I need them

I knew it was the right thing to do

And finally

I cried

 

Tonight was a transformative experience for me. I sobbed today like I haven’t in years. It’s as if the pain, the shame, and the fear were just holding everything back. When I let go, all I felt was sad. I felt relieved, at peace, but so sad I cried for a long time.

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Her Anger Like A Fire

Byjack

Her Anger Like Fire

I felt her anger like fire

Burning in my face

Searing like acid

Felt the heat of it

Within her body

But all I could think of

Was the weight of the cold stones filling my heart

While I wondered

What happens

When love

Gives up

 

I realized something today. Sometimes when you love someone so much, you can’t give them space. Love needs space to grow, absence to remind you what it is made of. Sometimes, if you really love someone, you have to let them go. Even if it means they may never come back.

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I Wonder If I Ever Meant Anything

Byjack
I Wonder If I Ever Meant Anything

I wonder if her words had any weight

Like sturdy old fashioned railcars laden with

Golden promise

Or if they were as ephemeral and false

Like the carcass of a shattered plate

Once with pleasing curves

And a sureness

Like that of unspoken feelings

I wonder now

If I imagined it all

And the distance was an ocean

That I mistook

For a puddle

 

A Penny From The Top of The Empire State Building

They say, that an oridinary penny

Dropped from the top of the empire state building

Will cut a hole through the concrete sidewalk below

The penny is in me now

Burning a hole

Through the bottom of my heart

 

These poems are about the fear that there was never a real connection, that I made it up in my own mind. I wonder if there was even the possibility of love, or if I was simply deluding myself.

I wonder what I wasn’t able to give her. Was I not attractive enough? Not fun enough? Did I not give her enough space?