Tag: Marriage

marriage, no, thank you & his lack of charm drew me in

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Two poems posted on Substack notes

AI-Generated Image. A Black married couple who just got married. They are both smiling into the camera. A glimpse of sunlight shines in the background, highlighting their faces.

marriage, no, thank you.

I used to want
marriage–when I
dilly-dallied in my
20s and early 30s…

now, I’ve no yen to
lasso such a thing
close to me that
seems to depress
my loved ones.

Of all the married
couples I’ve ever
known, 30% of them
are happy. I don’t
care who you are,
that’s a frightening
statistic.

I envision myself
whole, free, loved,
and understood, and
I don’t have faith in
anyone else to make
me that way.

The journey must
begin and end with
me.

AI-Generated Image: A Biracial man standing with a look of confidence on his face, as he leans against a red truck.

his lack of charm drew me in

I wasn’t lying when
I said, “he isn’t
debonair.” he isn’t.
he wasn’t. but there
was something of
an allure about him–
how his lack of
charm convinced me
to reveal my caged
self.

all the baggage. all
the misplaced anger.
all the need for
space.

he was a breeze that
passed through at
the perfect time and
collected me during
my most heated
moments.

we relied on passion
to sustain us, and
that was our downfall.

Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book and Paperback) yet?

I recently signed up to write on Substack as well. Poking the Bear’s Belly for Fun is a place of healing as I speak about the most recent events with my place of employment, as it pertains to racism and discrimination. I welcome your visit.

Left-handed in a Dream: A Haibun

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Part III: Regretting marriage

AI Generated Image: A Black woman looking ahead with a frustrated look while pondering a few photos she is holding. She is wearing gold hooped earrings, her hair is braided and pulled back into a bun, and there is a blurred background of what appears to be a home’s living room.

Memory hadn’t considered how life would be with Rodney. They were high school sweethearts. She thought going with the flow would be essential: stick with him, he’s a good guy, loves her, cares about her, and would do anything to appease her. But now that they’re both older, he is well . . . boring. She reminisces while sifting through wedding photos, shaking her head at their decision’s haste and considering the welcoming mat of divorce. Where would this lead them, though? Divorce is final and Rodney is a huge chunk of her life. He isn’t some man she decided to shack up with – they’ve invested time, love, effort, and work into each other. Rodney is . . . bigger than regret.

temporarily
filled with regret as peace moves
calmly into view

Part I & Part II

He’s Getting Married - No, Not to Me

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And, I couldn’t be happier for him

Photo by Avonne Stalling via Pexels

To my surprise, on August 29, 2020, I opened my mailbox to their invitation. One of my exes and his fiancé are marrying soon. I guess I cannot really call it a surprise. I knew I would receive an invitation. He and I spoke about it, but I buried it in the recesses of my mind and sort of forgotten about it, until yesterday. This will not be a belligerent recanting of how I am hurt or upset or even bitter. I am undeniably happy for him and his wife-to-be.

*Jay is a catch. He is a man I would be more than happy to recommend to a woman deserving of him. He’s intelligent, witty, creative, and in touch with his feminine side — he is a listener who heard me every time I had something to say. And if there was action needed for us to work, he stepped into that action. We just did not work, and there are reasons for that — all of them outside of our control.

I think it’s important for couples in intimate relationships to recognize when the spark disappears and is no longer attainable to move on from one another in that realm. Jay and I stayed friends — good friends, the kind that check up on each other and have lunch or dinner with each other when he is in town. We had/have so much in common, and that remains. But, I knew, years ago, I did not want marriage. And even if we had made it as a couple, I doubt, if he proposed to me — I would have said “Yes.”

Learning of this significant news caught me off guard. I’d sent him a text message one evening, as I am apt to do from time to time and we sort of fell into a discussion about life and he later said, “Hey! Did I tell you I am getting married?!” To which I replied, “You most certainly did not!”

I wish I could describe the overwhelming feeling of elation to you in my response. I want this for him. I have always wanted him to find happiness and whatever he believes that to be — it is my hope it manifests.

I gazed at the invitation for a long time. I looked at him and his beautiful wife-to-be and smiled. I shook my head in disbelief — this is happening! Jay is getting married. And I smiled again. The background image is of the two of them, standing in a record store, holding up an album, and on it are their names imprinted announcing the date. I thought to myself, “This must have been his idea.” We both love music and it is one of the first things that connected us to each other.

Now, this woman, this beautiful person he found to spend the rest of his life with, will get to enjoy his talents and all of whom he is.

They prepared for the times in which we live. Because of the global pandemic, the number of people who can physically attend is limited, however, they will stream it live. I will be in attendance from the comfort of my home. I will also send them a gift. I am more than happy to share in his joy in this capacity.

I wanted him to know I received their invitation. I sent him a text message that read: “My invitation came! Thank you! It’s beautiful and I’ll be in attendance from the comfort of my home. I’m so happy for you!” Knowing him as I do, I knew he’d respond within moments — that’s just him. And he did with, “Lol. Ok. Cool. Glad you got it. Did you have any questions about the live stream? And thank you!!”

When I think about who he truly is and who I truly am, we couldn’t last — not on that level, but as friends? There is a beauty to who we are as friends that needs no explanation. I love him and want only the best for him. I have watched his siblings grow up, begin their own families, move away to cultivate and enrich their lives, and I now know he is doing the same.

Four years ago, I may not have been as equipped to feel this way for him — to want him to find true happiness outside of being with me. I held on to some emotions that needed releasing and extracting from my system decades before, but this is what aging does — this is what growth does — it allows you to reflect on what you need to change deep within you and put it into action.

Because of this, I can tell you with no doubt, I am happy, truly happy for this man I once loved intimately and passionately to begin his life anew with his wife-to-be. I wish them wedded bliss–and anyone with evil intentions cannot harm or touch it. And should they want children, that they are happy, healthy, and equal parts of both of them.

He’s getting married and everything in me shouts in elation. And nothing else.

*Not his real name.

Forevermore

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marriedblackwhite
Courtesy of Pinterest

I am broken without you
shards of glass shifting down the tracks–
you cover me with your warmth,
breaths that I inhale, savoring each one.

I see you in glimpses of light,
waving on the windowsill,
I crave your touch.
It is a blessing to watch you sleep,
smile at you when you wake–
a gift unwrapped with caution.

You are still fragile with me.
Every curve of your body
settles into my embrace,
I will not break you.
I say this as I feel the beats of
your heart sync in time with mine.

You are safe in my care.

Forever is not enough time
with you.
I want ten thousand forevers
and twenty more after.

And even then,
That wouldn’t be enough.

Being deeply loved by someone gives you strength, while loving someone deeply gives you courage. ©Lao Tzu

The First Time

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Courtesy of Sacred Margins/Maria Makki

Damon has his hands full. Last night consisted of tossing and turning uncontrollably. Linda refused him their bed. Another heated argument landed him a night on the couch. A common theme in their home. He has lost his sense of self. He doesn’t know who he is and cannot remember who he was. Since the voices entered his head, he was changing. 

He carries a bowl of cereal, a mug of coffee, and the weight of his unforgiving heart on his shoulders. He struggles as he makes his way to the family room. Today, he will apologize.  

Linda is combing her dully colored hair. Damon said the highlights looked like they were torturing her scalp. She’d spent three hours and $85.00 at the salon, yearning for perfection. 

“Everything I do, I do for him.”

She mumbles excuses for her reactionary behavior while glancing at her tired reflection in the mirror.  She belittled Damon for his momentary outbursts, unwilling to see his progress. Today, she will end the suffering.  

The hardwood floors of their Victorian home creak under the pressure of heavy feet. Both of them pace in place, struggling to keep their anger sealed. Their therapist advised in the last session, “Let go of what does not matter. Embrace what does.” The walls whisper sound advice, in the frozen foyer, Damon hears them:

“Love or lose. Win no more.”

He races up the stairs, bursts into their bedroom, and lunges towards his wife. He catches her moments before she kills herself.  

This is the first time the voices in his head are right.