the love we used to know

Some days I wonder if its all worth it. . . I spend so much time alone. . .even when we are in the same room the grand canyon sits between us. I use the same words over & they fall flat on the ground leaving me empty. I hate this feeling, like I don't measure up. . .the days when I want to shatter the mirror from everything that pulls me down. The moments when all I want to do is scream to the sky as it crumbles down around me. So why do I stay? I've been called a fool , a doormat for staying. . .& sometimes I wonder if the din is right. It would be easier, some days, to just throw up my hands & walk away when everything is burning down.  Rome is in ruins & I feel helpless running around picking up all the pieces with bloody fingers & broken palms. Sometimes I don't want to move. . I just want to stay still & let the wind tear us to pieces. It all falls down & leaves me wounded in the blazing sun & its all I can do to breathe. . .& I need to believe every day is a new day , a new chance. I can can get down on my knees & scream to the sky & be heard by the Maker of the stars. Dear Jesus.
There i sat alone in the car the weight of what you'd done around me oh all around me and with the water rushing down my eyes it was all that i could do, not to scream" Eisley

the lines of my earth

There are days when I wonder if I will always live like this. . .with my trust shattered & my heart bleeding. Some days I feel hope glimmer on the surface of the world around me. . .& other days all I see is the clouds raining down upon my broken earth.  I realize some probably think I am insane for even fighting. . .maybe I really am doomed from the start. . .maybe all these battles are like Manassas. ..they seem important at the time but in the end. . .the win really means nothing. Just more carnage & loss. . .
Every day I wake up. ..& I realize it's my choice. I can either hold tight to the past with broken fists or I can open wide my hands & start anew. I can chose to continue to breathe in the stagnant stale air of crippled promises or I can open up my lungs to something new. To hope.
I've lived with the aftermath for so long sometimes it's hard to believe in something new. . .to believe maybe this emptiness is just a season & one day the dawn will crack the sky with fragile fingers & hope will rise. I got to believe we can be more than this rubble. . .we can be more than a painting in shades of gray. . .we can be light & beauty & grace.
Grace. Such a beautiful word. I long for shades of grace to set me. . .us. . .free. To break the chains of what we know now to be . .so much more.
the line of my earth so brittle, unfertile & ready to dry. I need a drink but the well has gone dry & we are in the habit of saying the same things all over again. . .i just don't feel it anymore" Sixpence None the Richer

the ones that run me through

I know. It's been a long time since I've written. Life has gotten crazy with a newborn.
Lately the distance between us is like the universe. It stretches out , an abyss of dark, that frightens me. I hold my breath hoping things will get better, but wondering if it will always be the same. I don't know if he is still looking at the crap. . . but deep down I feel he is. He erased all the history on his computer. Again. Yeah. I'm not stupid. It's just another. . .thing coming between us. Everything, I realize, is more important than me. Than the kids.  I go to bed, so many nights, alone while he is so busy doing. . .junk. Plain. Junk.
I'm tired of this
I dream. . .all the time..  of leaving. Of walking away. Packing up the kids & going home.
Why the hell do I keep trying , fighthing, when he doesn't give a . .bloody. . .dang.  ALl he cares about is himself. Maybe thats all he'll ever care about
I'm knocked out of this fight. I'm done.
I'm so. done
& I fall in love with the ones that run me through, when all along all I need is You" Switchfoot