Intrepid Lovesick Notes

Unearthing my truth

Intrepid Lovesick Notes

  • Things get scary, and it’s easy to hide.

    Hurt feels like a foreign object to the soul.

    It’s like my mind feels like it’s in an abyss.

    The only thing keeping me tethered is the sun and her seeds.

    See, I was birthed to Jupiter, the mother of expansion, the mother of natural beauty, but it seems to me as if I keep expanding so far, so wide, to a place that seems unfamiliar that when

    I tapped into

    Something to call home,

    I’ve become this place. Even in space, I’ve become a place the depths of my being can only hold darkness.

    I get that, I get that it’s pitch black, I get that it’s a match match, I get that I am wandering alone in darkness, a single light.

    And maybe that’s why love scares me.

    Because I’ve been the one lighting the way

    With nobody walking beside me.

    Maybe I’m not hard to love.

    Maybe I’ve just been loving in places

    Where my softness gets punished.

    I don’t want to beg to be understood.

    I don’t want to translate my heart

    Into smaller words.

    I want someone new

    Not as an escape,

    But simply as proof

    That my expansion doesn’t have to mean exile.

    Someone who doesn’t flinch at my depth.

    Someone who doesn’t ask me to dim

    So they can feel bigger.

    Someone who sees that I am wandering alone in darkness, a single light,

    and comes closer

    not to put me out,

    but to warm their hands

    and stay.

    And I’m good.

    Not because it didn’t hurt

    but because it didn’t end me.

    I’m not begging the past to be gentler.

    I’m not chasing closure like it owes me something.

    I’m learning the next lessons

    in my new chapter,

    soft hands, steady breath,

    a heart that still opens

    just smarter now.

    I don’t need love that confuses me.

    I don’t need love that costs me my peace.

    If it’s for me, it will feel like my soul returning home

    quiet, real, and warm.

    If it’s not, I will still grow.

    Because I’m still tethered.

    Still blooming.

    Still here.

    A single light

    and I’m not afraid of the dark anymore.

    -Tara SimoneTM

  • Evergreens

    Lost

    It wasn’t the first insult

    It wasn’t the first insult that broke me.

    It was the second one that sounded almost reasonable.

    Then the third

    that made me question

    whether I deserved it.

    It wasn’t the first time I’ve loved in this manner

    where fragments of self never came together as a whole to matter.

    Not all hit at once when all became eroded

    Like water

    against stone

    coming undone to the scars that linger with a beating heart

    patient, uncertain the wear cut deep slowly leaving traces of

    an existence that simply became a pathway.

    Laughter dwindled first.

    Voice never as here I stand.

    Then the space I took up in a room

    slowly erased.

    And I believed in those moments

    shrinking became enough.

    Apologizing or breathing too loud,

    for asking too much,

    for existing in ways that bothered another,

    To be daring again.

    The worst part wasn’t the fear.

    It was the confusion

    At the gentle care,

    the sometimes smile of welcoming

    of their whole self.

    Hope is cruel like that.

    It keeps the door unlocked

    for harm to walk back in.

    By the time I realized what was happening,

    I was smaller than my own reflection.

    Not broken,

    just dwindled.

    Even with erosion itself:

    Stone remembers its shape.

    And somewhere beneath the dust of words so cold,

    beneath the bruised silence

    and the practiced flinch,

    I am here.

    Not loud yet.

    Not steady yet.

    But no longer

    disappearing.

    -Tara SimoneTM