L Stands For Luminol

In the damp cell of life, I serve my time and think of you.

Your silenced lips now haunt me. If only I’d known what I’d do.

I often hear your voice, and I sometimes sense your soul.

I always taste your tears, so I never feel quite whole.

You are the man I love. Yet, you’re the drug I hate, but need.

Still, I’m the one who shrugs; I wash my hands of why you bleed.

Why did you make me do it? We could’ve worked, I knew we could!

If only you had done the things you swore to me you would.

I chose a dress of Chantilly lace. I chose a dress of white.

Then I chose to end a life—that was our final fight.

I tried to practice temperance, to be patient– Don’t you see?

But when you broke your promises, you got the best of me.

I thought I could backpedal and take back those things I said.

I thought that if I cleaned the blood, it’d raise you from the dead.

Soaking up harsh words, I tried to scrub your pain with bleach.

Yet traces of the crime remain in places I can’t reach.

They said you wouldn’t make it, but you told me you’d return.

It’s been two years. I’m shackled still. I guess I’ll never learn.

No one ever saw it coming. Some think I did it for the thrill.

My charge was Death By Tongue. Would you still say that words don’t kill?

© C.M. 2018 All Rights Reserved

 

Today’s poem is a repost from my deleted poetry blog; it is one of my favorites. If you are a habitual reader of mine (I’m totally grateful for you, if you are!), you may have noticed that the vast majority of my poetic attempts address my love life… (ahem) or pitiful lack thereof. This is hardly intentional, but love is a theme I feel is most relatable, so it’s okay by me if I keep writing about it. Hopefully, ya’ll don’t mind so much either 🙂

In other news… I’ve been MIA for awhile. Whoops. This is becoming a far more prevalent occurrence than I would care to admit, but I promise that it was for good reason this time. I’ve just returned from a much needed vacation, so I’m hoping that my stay by the sea was enough to shake loose the cobwebs of my mind. Though relatively brief and haphazardly planned, my trip was rather therapeutic, so I’m looking forward to sharing the random epiphanies I had during my absence.

As always, I hope you are all doing wonderfully. ❤

If you enjoyed this little blurb, I’d greatly appreciate you giving it a like or sharing it with someone you think might also enjoy it.
Also, don’t forget to follow this blog for more stories and ramblings! Ciao for now! ❤

 

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*Unless otherwise specified to be property of LonersGuideToLife.com, all photos were sourced from Pexels.*
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bluebird.

Bloodied heart. Wasted dreams.

I just can’t shake this love, no matter how much pain it brings.

I’m a grounded bluebird, with its shattered, tattered wings.

Even though the bird can’t fly, it isn’t dead, for it still sings.

That’s kind of how I feel about this thing called “us”.

At least, that’s how it was… these days it’s hard— there’s only dust.

Once ironclad, we’re tear-soaked.

Now there’s only rust.

So, I guess that’s just what happens when you 

lose

my

trust.

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True Love Never Dies

A good number of us know the feelings that can accompany the end of a treasured relationship. Whether you’ve grown apart from your romantic partner, completely lost touch with an old friend, or found yourself estranged from a family member, the pain of these experiences can be long-lasting.

Depswa’s “Prom Song” is all too relatable. This song really resonates with me because I’m reminded of a major truth in life: True love never dies.

Stepping away from my (former) fiancé was the most heartbreaking and life-altering decision I ever had to make. Though it took quite a bit of time (as well as some deep reflection), I was able to emerge from the ashes of “what was” with the strength, clarity and resolve to confidently move toward “what is to be”. 

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Today.

Today started like any other day.

The cat temporarily lost her mind and began fussing at the crack of dawn. Muttering under her breath, she squeezed herself between my body and the edge of the bed. As usual, I could feel her curious green eyes boring holes through my head. I opened my left eye ever so slightly. Sure enough, her sweet little face was a mere inch or two away from my nose. She was watching my unmoving face, praying that her presence would be enough to wake me. 

Is she awake? I hope she’s awake. I think she should be awake. I want her to be awake. Now.

In an act of self-preservation, I shielded my face with my arm. Right on cue, she pawed at my bare forearm and mewed. I pretended to be asleep, but when she continued to bat at various body parts, I had to maneuver in order to avoid losing an eye… or two. Her nails pricked me several times, so with great regret, I greeted her with a friendly pat on her head. Of course, I had blown my cover, so it was then mandatory for me to get up and let her out of the bedroom. 

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What The $#!+*@?- A Breakup Story

It seems as though 2007 came and went without any written record of my whereabouts.

Though I am confident that I would have scribbled my feelings into a notebook from time to time, I have been unable to locate such an article. If a diary from this period of my life ever surfaces, I will have to skim it for particularly telling tidbits of information. But until that day, the explanations that follow will have to suffice.

Adam and I broke up soon after the New Year. When I say “break up” I actually mean detonated.

By this point in time, I had just quit my job in preparation for my move to San Diego. Up until our demise, we had still planned to move in together. However, I had a swift change of heart about two weeks before signing the lease. Something in my spirit told me that moving in with him would prove to be the biggest mistake of my life, so I ended up planning to move down there on my own. As I’m sure you could guess, Adam wasn’t the slightest bit blessed by my decision.

The actual breakup was rather dramatic and abrupt. I remember trying to reach him by phone quite late one evening. When my calls went unanswered for several hours, I grew worried about his whereabouts. By the time he finally answered, I was met by all manners of noise in the background. His salutation was slurred and sloppy— he was undeniably intoxicated. I knew how the call would end the moment I heard his voice. I had had enough of his buffoonery.

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Cold, Cold Porcelain

It is hard for me to remember the events of late 2006 with any degree of precision or accuracy. However, I highly doubt my memory was any better at the time.

In the span of time from October to December of that year, my relationship with Adam suffered considerably. The resurfacing of my ex-boyfriend and the arguments that swiftly followed, kicked off a miserable chain of events that Adam and I never quite came back from. With a quickness, we were thrown into a revolving door of accusations and low blows.

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Shame On You

“If only I knew then what I know now.” I have such mixed feelings about this statement.

For the most part, I avoid saying things like this because hindsight is 20/20. In the majority of cases, I think most people would take the knowledge they have now and use it to positively influence their past if they thought it could lead to a preferable outcome. All the same, we can’t go back in time and alter anything, which renders the whole wishful nature of statements such as these useless…

… yet I still found myself thinking this way when I read over today’s post.

There is a certain degree of detachment for me when I read past writings such as the one below. Although I can vividly recall how I felt in those particular moments, it still feels slightly foreign. This is quite a peculiar position to be in because I never thought my day of freedom would come. I’d been imprisoned against my will by inexplicable sorrow for so long… my current state of being is supremely surreal in comparison.

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I Nell. Me Was Caveman.

There once was a time when I handled my romantic relationships like a caveman. Not even a cavewoman. A caveman.

Despite having grown up in a family full of (questionably) happily married couples, I never had any formal training when it came to learning how to form my own relationships. Did any of you? Hmm. Perhaps I mistook the Dating 101 seminar invitation for junk mail… or bills. *Shudder* I always make sure to throw my bills into the recycling bin straight away. It’s good for the environment, you know.

Anyhow, unlike the whole birds and the bees thing (from which I naively took away the message, “Never, ever, ever touch boys”), my mother never sat me down and explained what I should and should not do if I hoped to maintain a successful partnership with a member of the opposite sex.

I didn’t have any siblings to ask, and although I’d grow to have friends who also dated, I wasn’t about to pick their brains about something so serious. Besides, I was fairly confident that they didn’t know what they were doing either. It seemed like a much better idea to wing it. And so, I did.

Turns out I was a relational caveman. No contemplation. No patience. No decorum. No idea what the heck I was doing. It was simply, “Me like. Me want. Me take. Me bored. Me throw away. Me like new thing now. You go away.” And the cycle would repeat itself.

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Self Control… What’s That?

Before I jump into today’s throwback post, I’d like to wish all of the fathers out there a very happy Father’s Day.

It has always seemed as though mothers get so much more recognition for their half of the parenting. I mean, retail stores practically cram Mother’s Day gifts down our throats a month in advance. By the time we hit Father’s Day, stores are like, “Here, just get him another tie. It doesn’t really matter.” That’s not true though; it does matter. Fathers matter.

Fathers are just as important as mothers. They have a responsibility to show their sons how to properly conduct themselves as true men. Likewise, they have a duty to display the kinds of qualities their daughters should look for in a mate. Fathers should be there to guide, provide and nurture their children to the very best of their abilities.

As for my father, he has served as an excellent role model. I’m not saying he is perfect, but he’s done such an exemplary job of being the kind of father many people wish they could have had. I truthfully cannot name anyone who has worked as diligently or hard as my father has throughout the years. He’s been such an inspiration to me. It is from him that I inherited my two favorite traits: (1) the ability to dream bigger than big and (2) a wild taste for adventure. Thank you for everything, Dad ❤

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Act, Don’t React

It is hot as hell here.

It was 106º today.

It’s nearly midnight, but it is still a concerning 91 degrees Fahrenheit.

This being said, I’ve just voluntarily made myself some hot tea. Absolutely absurd.

For some reason, I am half comatose the majority of any given day. Forget not being a morning person— I’m not a day person. But if you catch me at night…woo! That is when I’m wide awake. This being the case, I tend to get most of my work done while it is dark…and not a blistering thousand and a half degrees. Actually, my favorite thing to do at night is make a mug of coffee or milky tea and plop in front of my computer to catch up on whatever I’ve been procrastinating about. It is oddly relaxing, really.

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