PoeticaL
cluttering the net since 2001

sorry is a four letter word

Monday, Mar. 18, 2002
Always sorry.
Sad words falling out of
Gumball machines
Sour bitter candies
My penny thoughts
Cost me more than
An eternity of peace

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And another day that the voice mail begins pouring in�

12:49 a.m.

hey it�s a quarter after 12. Real nice hanging up on me there. I didn�t think we were done talking but I guess you are. I�m sorry. I�m so sorry.

8:49 a.m.

hey.. you know I understand that I have caused you a lot of pain. But do not presume that I am not feeling this too because my hearts breaking feeling this.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Please don�t tell me that I had no right to go into my house. I had a key. He gave me that right. He knew I was going to come and go at my own free will. He was aware of it. Of course this was the first and only time that I ever went there unannounced and/or at 2 a.m. The first and only time� and it was the only time I had to.

When I moved out he and I had huge long talks about what I was trying to achieve. 3 days prior to Saturday night I was in bed with him. Having sex with him. Telling him that I loved him and wanted to move in with him and Bucky once they rented a house. I was telling him I wanted my marriage, telling him I got lost somewhere along the way and moved out to find myself. 5 days ago he was holding me telling me he understood it all. I believed him.

3 days later�.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

This morning my son looks at me in the car on the way to school and with the saddest eyes says to me, �Daddy�s not going to go to heaven when he dies huh Mommy?�

In the smallest voice that I�ve ever shoved across my tongue I said, �no�. I wanted to say, �there is no heaven�there is only hell.� But I didn�t. I looked at his crying blue eyes and couldn�t.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

My thoughts are so broken right now�

On Sat night prior to 2 a.m. my son called me wanting me to come over and get a teddy bear that he bought for me. I went there at 11 p.m. and said �Mrs. Cleaver� was there rolling around on my bedroom floor with my son and her son and I promptly stated that it was inappropriate. I asked her not to interfere. I told her that I loved my husband and didn�t dump out on my marriage. That I left in an effort to change the situation for the better. She said, �ok�.

Ok meant �ok I�ll fuck your husband and see if that helps?�

Did it mean �ok I am not listening to you�

What did it mean? What the fuck?

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

It was because of the vibe I caught at 11:30 ..her in my bedroom�. That was why I went there. That was the thing that caused me to drive back there after pacing in my apartment for an hour and half arguing with myself that I had no right to do that to arguing that I have every right because my son lives there and because that is still MY husband.

Now I struggle with the notion that it wasn�t a good idea to it was a good idea to�.what the fuck difference does it all make.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

And I�m listening to his voice mails�his messages�his words..his phone calls. A husband that claims that he was lost..that she was �paying attention� to him when I was �moving out�. I think she was the widow spider stalking her prey. And he�s one pathetic fucking fly.

~~~~~~~~~~~~~~

Her husband called me on Saturday morning apologizing to me. Telling me not to worry about the door I broke. Telling me he didn�t blame me. Telling me he understands my pain because she�s got some fucked up psychological problem whereby she seduces married men and that this was not her first time. I simply stated.. �you need to kick her ass out of the house and go on with your life.� He said, �Jesus wants us to forgive.� Apparently Mr Cleaver, has already told my husband that he�s been forgiven. I think the entire matter is fucking sick. There will be no forgiveness from me for anything or anyone.

I promptly went outside of my apartment with a razor blade and scraped off my cute little �got jesus?� sticker from my Preludes back window. I scraped and scraped and scraped and cried and tears mixed into all the sticky stuff that doesn�t want to come off�. I cried Jesus right out of my life. There is no Jesus. I will NOT be finding solace in any bible. I stood over my kitchen sink burning the Corinthians�.page by page. The love chapter can fuck off. There�s something so sad about watching words bend up into charcoal. Something so sad about looking at my white hands all black and blue. Razor blade-like cuts running the length of my fingers. Blood collected under the surface. Pain that can�t get out.

-PoeticaL
9:57 a.m. ::
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