Eye Lashes

It is winter and when you live in a cool to cold place you don’t usually shave your legs every day, every week or heck not even every month. At least those of us ladies who aren’t wearing dresses to work. What would be the point, you are in sweatpants or pajama bottoms, sweatshirt, sweater, something warm and cozy.

 

Then there is the day you step into the tub or shower and scream in horror, “it must be a full  moon tonight”.  Yep the legs were that hairy today, long black hair, Woolf.  So as usual I start my bath with a good book, Anita Blake Vampire Hunter # 11 Cerulean Sins.  There is at least two hours of reading or more depending what I have to do today, tonight, the doctor visit tomorrow.  After I know that like it or not I must stop reading for now the book is set on the seat of the toilet out of splash range. I proceed to wash the hair on head, then the rest of me, wrap my hair in a towel  then sit on the edge of the tub.

 

I hear eerie music in my head, grab lotion slather it on one leg, then take razor in hand and go to work.  I don’t rinse the razor, I back slide it, leaving a little row of black hairs.  Right leg done now onto the left leg.  Looking down at my handy work, my little brain goes click, I say “Oh”?   “Look at that there are eyelashes on my thighs”, little empty eye spaces all over my thighs…  Think Obsidian Butterfly book # 9 in the Laurell K. Hamilton series Anita Blake..

Saroya Poirier @ October 1, 2013

On my 10th read though of the series

 

Sighing

I want to SCREAM
Just fucking SCREAM

I want to release the screams in my head

I want to scream until my throat is raw
Until there is no breath left to scream

Release from the pressure of the screams repressed in me

Unrelenting moaning swirling around in me

Body wrenching turmoil why what cause

I just want to it to go away, peace emotional peace

Leave me alone

Saroya Poirier © July 18, 2013

Leave

 Empty space

Empty room

Blessed silence

A low kenning

A soulful sound

Imagining self

Alone peaceful

Wrapped in loss

Unknown quantity

Pensive refrain

Tears pressing

Echoing screams

STOP just stop

No demands

No expectations

Hide in plain sight

Invisible

Go away

Leave just go

Saroya Poirier ©July 16, 2013

Wine and Tears

May 28,2013

Wine and Tears  

I am 65 years old, I have resolved nothing nor can I fix anything. There is no one to talk to that I would trust to understand or to help me understand.

I still care even after 40 plus years but it seems he did not. He said horrible things to me, wished me dead, threaten to put a bomb in my mail box.  I may not have always said the right thing but I was never mean about him.

I still love him, now, today, yesterday; forever will he be a part of my soul. 

I made mistakes I know that, but I was so young and didn't really understand anything, let alone how to make a relationship work.

I am sorry I hurt him, I am so very sorry and he will never know that now.

Alcohol makes me melancholy. I wish I could fix the past, and by doing so make this a better time, with better decisions. But I can’t, not a damn thing I can do about anything now.  So I will just for this little time, wallow in grief and regret.  Love lost, love destroyed, love trampled on.

Feeling sorry for yourself is a waste of time, but then so is sleeping if you are really worried about the ticking clock.  But once in a while just take a little time to wallow, lie in the mud, get dirty and weepy. Get it out and over with. That is what I am doing.  Just bear with me, or get bare for me.

May 29, 2013

Today is the; woulda, shoulda, coulda, day. 

You know I should have kept working and not become a stay at home mom, wife…. I would have been better off financially, not rich just better than I am.  I could have let my hubby walk the first time he left instead of waiting for him to come back.

Then there is the “Might Haves.”

I might have been better off on my own; I might have found someone more compatible, I might have been happier, maybe, just maybe found someone who really wanted to be with me, love me, make love to me, and let me bite, scratch, be wild in the sack.

Maybe, just maybe… well that last bit is a definite possibility.

May 31, 2013

Ah the perils age, aside from the getting older shit. You knew that didn’t you? The Shit Happens is true because you certainly can’t stop the aging process, you can fix the outside if you have the bucks but you really can’t to shit about the inside not any part of it.

Okay that wasn't what today rant is was about, laughing, well!

June 1, 2013

I know that not everyone I know approved of my 9 month (1997) reunion, love, affair with Pat Vess, depending on who you talked to.

But ya know I have no regrets.  It didn't change anything but I have absolutely no regrets all.. I am glad I found him that we could rekindle for a short while the love we when we first met in 1963, that love that resulted in my first child at 16.

With Jerry Mescoe I will never have any kind of closure.  Maybe I never would have, but it was still possible so long as he was alive.

With Jerry's suicide all possibilities died too.

I am just talking to myself, just talking, thinking, writing and wishing.

With a lot of regret associated too.

 

Will You Wake Me, Make Love to Me?

Will you wake me in the middle of the night and make love to me? They do that in movies, I read it in books.

I said those words to Jerry on our wedding night.  Can you see my smile? He did even though he was tired and had to be on the ship in the morning.

I was 17, full of dreams, looking to be loved and wanted. To make a family, be part of a family, have children.  My dream, shattered, my fault, his fault... too young.

Things I have forgotten, he is gone and cannot fill in those memories, good, bad, or indifferent.  Come back, please.

I cry for my children a father they really didn’t get to know.  I cry for myself a love I let go. I cry for the dream of finding him and making it right.  Tears from deep inside, from a time  past.  I cry for not really knowing how to make it all work.

I cry for him I cry for me, I cry for the family we were supposed to be.

I had to learn to iron his Navy whites. Everyone laughed at him the first time I did, crease in the wrong place. He came home and taught me the right way to do it.  Things wives do, even when they get morning sickness. 

I didn’t know this about myself, he wouldn’t have understood. Even though I was 17 years old biologically, I was emotionally only 15.  What had happened to me at 15, the birth and loss of my first child to adoption stagnated me left me stuck for a very long time.  That event had left me a fragile unhappy child looking to fix it all, looking for love, marriage and a baby.  

So here I sit, crying for myself, I understand that we can mess up our child’s lives when we don’t give them good role models, then again, even when parents do, our children can screw up our own lives.

So for now, tears will have to suffice. I can’t change or fix any part of the past; I can’t bring Jerry back and say I am sorry, please love me again.

I am lost

Quiet physical moaning

Threat of salty wave

Feeling of loss sadness

Confusion

Ache of body and soul

Heavy weighted feel

Energy draining

Throbbing

Sliding shedding

Renewal denied

Inward pull

Sealed in

Desire

Unheard call

Detachment

Reclusive

Contemplation

Find Me

©Saroya Poirier    May 19, 2013

Blessed Beltane

Blessed Beltane summer comes

New growth appears on the run

Mother’s release from winter chill

 Birds celebrate with a joyful trill

Earth begins to transform

Flowers bloom soil warms

Children round the May pole wind

Ribbon colors to entwine

Delightful mating in the night

Babes born at winters light

The spring full circle comes again

With waning moon o’er quite glen

©Saroya Poirier May 1, 2013