*Disclaimer: I know that I should not be mentioning him or this anymore. But I HAD to share this with you all. This is what I wrote in my book as I sat there not watching them. Thank you for your patience and tolerance. You can't rush miracles. Healing hurt takes time. Hold on to the hands offered to you... even when they want to let go.
Why won't my heart slow down?
Oh if it did I might be able to convince myself that I was OK with this situation.
Dear, sweet karma... why on earth must you do this to me?
Why of all the places in all the world at all of the times?
Just when he was starting to go away. Just when I was jumping into a new set of ghostly fantasy.
Why do I have to watch him.. treat her the way he should... have treated me?
Pound. Pound. Pound. Like I would like to do to his head and the coffee table.
Like I wish he would have had sex with me.
Like the unforgiving rain that fell this morning.
Like my mother's pain coming from her side.
Oh how the oranges, reds, browns and purples of my mother's hip cover my bruised heart, hope and ego.
It is hard to admit that I played myself.
Like the beating of his drumline on their instruments.
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