I wanted to start this poem with what love means to me.

and I wrote some lines about how I don't know anymore.

I am going through a divorce, I may or may not be in love with a man who has a girlfriend.

I am going through hell, and I started writing about how those experiences leave me with the lack of knowledge on what love means.

And then I realized I was wrong.

Love is not contingent on a man, or a woman. 

It is not based on another person, but rather it is based on yourself.

I can be in love with someone who doesn't love me, that's love.

I can be in love with someone who adores me, that's love.

Most importantly, I can love myself, and that is also, love.

Love is not held down by boundaries and rules on what and where and whom you may love. It does not care if it is real or fake or supposed to be, it just is. It just is. And that's possibly the most beautiful part about love there is, is that without reasoning it comes and it goes. In and out of your life like wind blowing through the trees. There is no method, logic, or reasoning more than the fact that it just is a thing. 

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talk to me

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say something, please

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I need to talk to you, Please answer me

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I'm sorry.

I feel sick to my stomach thinking of your hands running down my back

your fingers lingering along the most intimate lines in my body

your lips grazing parts of my body I had promised to no one

so willingly giving them to you

Why you

why someone who never wanted me

why someone who loved someone else, committed to someone else

there are so many reasons I had for falling for you

there were so many reasons I had that clearly mean nothing in the wake

but I did just that, I fell

and in the heartbreak I will surely feel, she will feel so much worse

The way your kisses tasted, ice water in my veins 

the subtle way your words made my smile soar now turn them sour

it had nothing to do with me, or who I was

you're a smooth talker and you talked me into so much

I feel sick to my stomach thinking about your smile on her lips

your hands on her back as you pull her into yourself once more

the way your touch ignites her like it ignited me

there is no question about how wrong I was, but who the fuck are you

and the thing is, only you can answer for yourself

I feel sick to my stomach, like you're sitting inside of me waiting

waiting for me to give myself to you over and over again

without reason or remorse I fuck with you like you were mine

you will never be mine

you were never mine

My stomach should purge myself of your poisons

but can it?

Dear the girlfriend of the man I have been sleeping with,

I want you to know I sincerely apologize for my actions. Sleeping with your man was an irrational and frankly, idiotic decision, one that I deeply regret. I had no reason to fuck with your man, one that I knew was yours from the start.

You do not know me, you do not want to, and you possibly never will. You will also never see this letter, because it is not one I wish to enlighten you on. I am more than happy to walk away from this situation hoping you never see the scars, and never have to know what has happened behind your back. You may assume something happened, you may guess he's talking to other women, and you're right. I was not the only one, and that hurt, but I cannot imagine what it would do to you, the girlfriend. Commitments were made to you that I could not ever wish would be made to me. Commitments were promised I am sure by this man, who does not deserve someone like yourself.... 

Who the fuck did I think I was? I have no answers, I have no excuses. I just apologize profusely for what I have done to you, whether you ever know the pain you are not feeling or not.

I wish you the best, and the best is better than the man you're in love with.

Find yourself a loyal man, because I promise you, this is not him.

All the best, and only the best,

Kathlyn Powell. 

Standing still, you stare at me through panes of glass I have never seen before

They are surely more reflective than that in a normal window pane

Pained by the thought of you staring at me at all, let alone through a reflective surface

I wallow in pity I do not own and lack reason enough to stop

I see my own tears strolling down my cheeks, crimson with embarrassment as you stare

Staring into me like I am the most important being in the entire universe

your entire universe

I cannot stop looking at your eyes, your irises brilliant and bright with hope

They look into me, through me, with such hope it makes the tears swell more intensely

I am not sure why, though you stare so intently, I am so aware you do not see me

So clearly can I see my own masks and my own burdens, but you see past me

As if I was not there to comfort you

As if I was not there to hold each sin you have carried with such strength it saddens you

Why was I never enough to hold your weight when offered, but rather walked past

Walked on

I stand here, behind reflective panes and wonder these things like clock work

Ticking time bombs in my own head, while you stare past me, through me with hope

I had offered my entire life to carry the weight you bore on your shoulders

Place it on myself and walk with a dignity I had not, nor never could, earn from you

But I would do it for you regardless

Yet we stand feet apart now, with just a thin piece of glass between us

And I am not even enough for you to truly see

But in this instant, for the first time in possibly a long time, I can see myself in your eyes

I can see the reflection of my auburn hair in your brown irises

I can see my dimples reflected in the grey of your mustache and the creases in your cheeks

My hair waves and buckles in a low ponytail where yours thins and shows age in silver sparkles

All my life I stood in front of you, wanting to be nothing but yours

To be looked at like I looked at you, with such honor, respect and unyielding affection

A proudness, that this, this is mine

A thin pane of glass… all I ever needed was a thin pane of glass to see you

And yet, you cannot begin to see me

Cracking your ribcage like pencil led

I bend my body to contort itself to your shape

Knees bending over knees bending over

I slide my arms into your cavity, hitting a spleen I believe

I confine my being into your being, and slither into the seams

Moving your liver over an inch or two, don’t worry its fine

I’ll just put your heart by your lungs, and shift your stomach down a tad

I don’t mind sharing, it’s just that I need a little more space

Listening to the beating of your heart, now muffled by your heavy breathing

Your organs make new noises as they shift themselves into new places

Goo courses around my limbs and over the edges of your broken ribcage

Spilling out and over onto the tiled floor of my kitchen

I am not entirely sure why we decided to become one being in my kitchen

Though I could understand because of the tile… much easier than carpeting

Less chance of someone finding us in here, than if we had moved out into the yard

Positioning myself inside your chest cavity, I begin to feel almost comfortable

Never mind the bits of muscle and bone poking and prodding at my back

Almost too tight, but we make it work you and I

Though… I must say, I assumed going into this that you would have less fat

I mean, you’re a fairly lean person I am not sure why all this fat is taking up my space

If I threw a little of this onto the floor I don’t think you’d mind right?

I mean, who would mind a little fat being taken out

The sound the fat makes hitting the tile floor is astonishingly grotesque

Like the sound wet spaghetti makes as you’re stirring in the sauce

A mixture of mushing, mashing, and moistness

And no one likes that word, believe you me

It sloshes onto the floor, splattering blood across three or four tiles

SHIT, I forgot to pick up a mop at the grocery store

I knew I was forgetting something when I grabbed the bleach

I haven’t heard your heart beat in a second, I should check on that

I poke at it… it moves… I don’t hear the beat itself but it’s clearly working on something

Which I assume is sending blood to your body parts that aren’t broken, on the floor, or punctured

Then again, I am no doctor

Comfortable, in the best sense, I reach out and grab my notebook and pen off the floor

Squeezing them in, I catch the pen on a shard of rib and I hear you gasp

Well you’re alive… that’s good to know

Wiggling my ass around for a second to get extra confined and comfortable

I put pen to slightly stained with blood and intestinal ooze paper

Hopefully inspiration comes to me while I am contorted into your being

That being the point and all

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Inspiration… come to me…

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Fucking writer’s block… DAYS it’s been DAYS since I have written a decent line, let alone a decent piece

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I sit inside of you for what feels like seconds

The kitchen stove shows I have been inside of your chest for three hours

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Fuck you inspiration

Since we both have places to be eventually, and I am unsure how long this will take

I throw my pen and paper, now soaked so really not of much use, out of the hole I’ve made and onto the tiled floor

Putting both hands on either side of the hole, making sure to avoid any sharp rib pieces

I pull myself up off my ass, which fell asleep some time ago

UGH

I fall onto the tiled floor, in a mess, your mess…

I look at you, opened and starting to stink a tad

Thanks

I nod at you, in a bro fashion

I grab my pen and paper off the floor, look at them both once with a passing glance

Push the trashcan’s lid open and dump them both inside

Fuck you inspiration

I look at you one more time.

I was sure this was going to work…

When is it my turn to be the most something, the most amazing the most perfect the most sweet the most patient the most kind the most something.

why am i always second best

why am i always second to last

why am i always not the one

I can't breathe anymore Katie

The light you shed is now burning me alive Katie

I cannot handle your melodramatic bullshit Katie

Don't you understand this is a game for me Katie

a game you made less fun these last few days so I am going away Katie

I cannot handle you anymore, nor do I want to Katie

You are a fucking horrible person with no dreams or wishes Katie

You play people like puppets and I do the same but I am cutting your ties Katie

I am cutting all ties Katie

I fucking hate who you are and pretend to be and want to be Katie

I fucking never loved you Katie

you fat fucking shameful version of a person drifting into space Katie

I cannot believe you believed me Katie

I am laughing my ass off at your fucking words and tears Katie

come back come back come back you scream Katie

I am laughing all the while you are dying for me Katie

you fucking love me and I love it but I hate you Katie

you are a loser and a no one and better off gone Katie

fuck you Katie

I never loved you Katie

I never loved you at all and anyone is better than you Katie

Katie

Katie

Say my name again Katie

You told me you never ate the liver, only the bacon

your mother would set dinner on the table and you would eat the bacon

however you're a liar

someone who was forced to eat the dreaded liver before the bacon

you told me you ate only the bacon

and I guess this is a good story to describe the person you are

you are a man who ignores all the negativity

only speaking and remembering the good times

without dealing with the bad times

because bad times were my times my memories with you coated in bad times

we do not discuss those

we do not speak of the liver only the bacon

and if it puts a smile on your mustached face we can speak about the bacon

we can speak about the laughs and the love and the bacon

but please know that the liver existed

it coated your tongue in memories sour before the bacon washed it clean

washed the slime of organ from your tongue

and if that is what you want to remember about your life than so be it

but do not take my liver away

do not pretend that it was roses and bacon and love

because you were liver in my life you were the slime on my tongue

You told me you only ate the bacon

passing the liver off became your niche