Take what you want of me
Come drink your fill
I’ll always have love for you
I’ll cure all your ills
Or die trying
Honest Prose
Take what you want of me
Come drink your fill
I’ll always have love for you
I’ll cure all your ills
Or die trying
Are you upset because you feel that you gave too much, darling?
Too much love and affection, only to end in rejection?
Too much energy and time, too much of your body and mind, did you spend too many of your dimes?
Too many gifts, too many kisses?
You were too much for me
I risked my life for you, with every imposed act of unprotected sex
Your arms were prison bars to me, your body was a wall I couldn’t make fall
Finally free with the help of geography, I set to work separating you from me
I told you so many times that your love was toxic for me
You cared only for yourself, I was an object on your shelf
We both gave up the chance to be with dozens of other lovers
I gave you the best years of my life and you riddled them with strife
I thank you for all of that, even though being trapped in an unhealthy relationship damn near killed me
You were my drinking buddy and my drunk enemy
You never kept the peace for long
A loud grievance about how the world did you wrong was perpetually erupting
Despite the fact that you were a spoiled, silver spoon over-fed blond haired, blue-eyed white American male
Honey, your complaining is still ringing in my ears
You gave me the time of my life, never after
Our friends went out of their way to keep us apart because the damage we caused each other was so painful for them to watch
Our approaches to life are opposite
I ask what I can give
You ask what you can take
No wonder you were so fond of me
You want without end
I could never satisfy you
I am at peace now, and I wish the same for you
I no longer feel torn by my simultaneous love and loathing for you
I feel only grateful to have survived our relationship
It was almost too much
You’re creeping on my heart
Changing my reality
When did you start moving in
Did you ask me
When will you pick up after yourself
You’re changing my reality
Fast-forward a year or two
I’ve grown to accept you
I’d still like you to clean up your mess
You’ve changed my reality
I care about you as a person, and how you treat me as a person
I don’t mind your broke down truck or your empty wallet
We are rich in love
We are supported by a foundation of spiritual love
Thank you for changing my reality
My man wants to know how many men I’ve had sex with.
I tell him the truth: I don’t know.
I don’t feel the need to know how many times I’ve been raped. I have no desire to quantify the horror, shame or mistakes. I might explode with rage if I focused on those who eagerly traumatized me for their own pleasure.
During my employment as a happy-ending masseuse, I ended up giving much more than the hand jobs I signed up for. Now I’m trying to create a happy ending for my own life but my man keeps asking me about the past. His questions awaken violent emotions in me.
The customers who paid for hand-jobs knew that I wouldn’t call the police when they raped me because I’d be incriminating myself.
My only crime was being born below the poverty line. Self-abuse and self-neglect were ingrained in me by my parents.
I was hungry and trying to get an education I couldn’t afford. I was told ‘here is the ladder you must climb to reach a better life.’ I set to climbing. I solved my financial problems creatively.
My man fixates on the absence of the number of men. I’d tell him if I knew, maybe.
His questions feel invasive and probing.
I used to be valued by men for what I could give- my young, beautiful body.
Now I am devalued by my man for what I have given men.
Men only value women in relation to other men.
When will I be seen as my own person, my own human, inherently invaluable?
My man bemoans what I don’t know; the quantity of traumas too numerous to count, too common to stand out in my blurred memory.
Yet he doesn’t complain about the food I put on his plate, the home I make, or the bills I pay.
I implore him to wait, let me tell my story when I feel ready. I don’t think I’ll ever feel ready. When he asks me about my sexual history I feel ill, anxious and hurt.
I find my breath, reassure myself that he didn’t mean to inflict suffering, and flirt with forgiveness. I remind myself that my spiritual groundedness is stronger than even my exaggerated stress response, my current perceived crisis.
He knows that I was a pushover, pretty and poor. For all of his scheming, jealousy and time spent thinking about me, you’d think my man would connect the dots.
How do I rip myself from you?
You who I’ve given so many years to.
How do I rip myself from you?
You who I’ve give so many tears to.
How do I separate my voice from yours?
How do I separate my mind from yours?
How do I separate my body from yours?
We shared so many things, we even got up to sing in front of the whole world.
You were my guy, I was your girl
How do I rip myself from you?
I’m all black and blue trying to rip myself from you.
You and I had insatiable appetites
For good times and long fights
Adventure called and we always heeded it.
We made love, so much love
We just couldn’t beat it
Even though we were up all night
And all day
We couldn’t keep our dissatisfaction at bay
I could never satisfy you
You could never satisfy me
Here we are, at last far from one another
Yet I still feel you inside me
I still feel you beside me
I feel your hands in my empty hands
I don’t understand
What good will it do
To remain wrapped up in you
When I could never satisfy you
And you could never satisfy me
I want to go with you to the place beyond words
The place where our bodies do the talking in that effortless language
I want to go with you to the place where we first met and knew in an instant what we wanted
The place where a wordless message was exchanged by forces unseen, forces that move us ever closer
Forces more powerful than a tsunami
Let’s start where we are
What I learned in college:
I learned that suicide hurts forever in the hearts of those left behind.
I learned the sweetness of Spring after the darkest Winter night.
I learned, too late, not to drink too much alcohol on a date.
I learned, too late, that not using condoms can lead to more than AIDS.
I learned, the hard way, that HPV can cause cancer.
I learned that I am too generous to make a living as an exotic dancer.
I learned that even the finest meal doesn’t taste good when my body pays the bill.
I learned that slow and steady is my pace.
I learned that life is not a race.
I learned, through time, what friendship looks like.
I learned that self/spiritual love is the most important relationship in my life.
My yoga teacher said
May you live in the heart
May you light up the dark
May you live in the now
May you flow with the Tao
May you bless up
And never come down
My yoga teacher said,
‘Our generation is the smartest one yet, we have all the information we could ever need at our fingertips, yet we still aren’t enlightened- we can’t take 3 steps without melting down’.
True, however:
What I wanted to say to my yoga teacher after class, but didn’t due to my lingering shyness was that we are in the process of becoming enlightened, and yoga teachers are an important part of the sacred process of enlightening others, whether they realize it or not:
One by one, enlightened people share their light with others
As if passing a flame from candle to candle
The glow grows without end, multiplying infinitely.
Sharing our inner light with our fellow beings does not diminish our own glow, but builds a safety net in case our own flame is temporarily blown out- we have a friendly neighbor with a bright source to rekindle us again.
Because we have paid it forward, we have propagated a culture of generosity and abundance.
Let your light shine.
Yoga is a key part of my healing journey. It has changed my relationship with myself and with the world.
To my yoga teacher, I bow in deep gratitude for how they share their light with the world.
To all teachers everywhere across time and space; thank you, and namaste.
I do things that I know I shouldn’t
I do the impossible, people said I couldn’t
I do wild things, you thought I wouldn’t
But I did and I do
I’m gonna keep on living how I see fit for me, not you
Your discontent has nothing to do with me
So don’t cry to me that I aborted the pregnancy
If you’d been half a man worth half a damn
Maybe I would’ve reconsidered
But you made it easy
I’m a wild thing
My body is mine and mine alone to keep
I am not an extension of you, you goddamn creep
Now you know, I don’t play when you mess with me
I’m wild and I’m going to stay that way
I won’t be the victim of your domestic abuse
I’ve already ridden that train and I know it goes right to Insaneland
You can stay there, I’ve hitchhiked elsewhere
I’m a wild thing
You are not allowed in my organic garden of Eden
You are too bitter to taste the sweetness my fruit