DEAR SANTA

I just broke up with the man I've been with for the past 5 years, with the man I dated for over two years while we were in high school together-- in the late '70's. 

And how super magical it was when he found me again, after us apart for over thirty years...it was like, coming home.
    In our 50's now, we'd often laugh about how I so want us to frolic in a meadow together (metaphorically or literally speaking) and we'd chuckle and say how our frolic muscles have arthritis and hey- where the fuck is a goddamn meadow anyway? 

But as good as he may be, there's this disconnect in him somewhere, like we all have, but I'm his target and I don't deserve that. Oh my god, so I called him up about an hour ago. And I said, I said, "Daryl, we're over. Over. Enjoy your life. Please never call me again." 

Has the bastard called me back????  you know, to 'fight' for us-- hahahahaa  of course not- 

Dear Santa, I feel so scared. For Christmas please give me a tiny bit of peace. 

(I wrote this late last night, I think my heart knew, before my head could accept, and even now, I don't want to let him go- but......I fear HE'S all ready let ME go, so------in essence, I'm just completing his handiwork.) 




To Where You Put Me:

your heart is a locked door

in my desperation to reach you

i knock louder and more 

i wonder just how many

tears do i have,

just how many pieces

can one broken heart produce?

my sadness, paralyzes me

keeps me from moving, 

just

from, moving

my love used to frolic

in every meadow

now

i know it was doing this alone

perhaps in its sleep, dreaming,

smiling

i reprimand any good feelings

and retreat to where you put me

and

it's definitely not

in any fuckin' meadow

juliebuck ©