a symbol for my shame, the color of your name (part VIII)

"Three separate ER nurses have either rolled their eyes at me or called me 'lame' for dropping a hatchet on my own head. Everyone's a critic."
~~John Roderick

(Continued from part VII.)

The next link in the chain.

Sun, Jul 8, 2012, 10:11 PM

[given name],

Today has been spent, in between scorching bouts of heat adaptation, working on lessening the tendency to reach for you. I have felt, all day, as if I am continuously stretching out my arms, seeking reassurance, seeking presence, which is not there. And each time I have that moment of realization, followed by depression, followed by resolve.

I have ingrained so many processes in you. Surcease and desire, devotion and absolution, fear and balm, and I am again standing in my own way if I keep responding. It makes it difficult to think on you, to process--even to write.

I've written other poems but you're not here, so I'm uploading them to Tumblr and letting them stand.

It used to be just seeing your name lifted my heart, made my pulse flutter and charmed me, claimed me, changed me. Now? I think of you and I cry.

It's not a good change.

Still love you. Still here. Back to trying not to hate you.

[Em]

Still trying to track all the scattered poems down throughout the Tumblr archive. It's taking some time.

More to come if I find it.

(Coded to Black Veil Brides' Scarlet Cross on repeat.)