I Thought You Already Knew

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I realized I hurt you too late.
The statements wandered internally.
They had merit, they were right.
They developed into thoughts left unsaid
but murmurs on the edge of my tongue.
Once spewed forth, brought eternal regret.
I thought you already knew what I said as truth.
Only to find that you blindly trusted my
feelings were exactly as yours.
[r]
Image Credit: thegreatist.com

The Salutation

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Watching it all happen wasn’t a surprise, but it was painful, knowing what I knew.
She sat at her desk quietly working, he walked in and started toward her desk. She looked up slowly, caught his eye, and quickly said ‘hi’. He looked her way, responded in the same and continued on past her walking toward his desk.  The constant talking, friendship, texting words, hopes, dreams over the previous six months all hewn down into two small words.
It crushed her, and he was eternally angry, but none of that mattered anymore and they both continued on with their lives as if the other was never a part nor were they ever.
Morgan Werhen Copyright 2018
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Keep Coming Back for More

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The heart wants what it wants, so it keeps crawling toward the very thing that destroys it.
The cliff is nearing, as the heart pulls closer to the abyss.
This story has been watched before, the mind screams “RUN!”
The body begs to be saved. The eyes wander. The hands feel.
The heart ignores all the obvious signs, emotions, sadness and whatever new horrors await.
The heart keeps on coming back for more.
Hopefully there will be a someone left after this turn on the road that has no end.

If Marriage is So Hard then Why Do We Want It So Bad?

This image bothers me.  It bothers me that I’m so totally jealous of it.  I don’t know the chic whose slipping on the final piece of clothing before walking down the aisle.  I don’t know the smiley happy people waiting for her to walk down that flowery, or not flowery, or just plain people tunnel toward her ‘end.’ I don’t know any of the people watching her while they remember their happy moments when they did the exact same thing!
I don’t know the dad, or mom or aunt or brother or dog who will be accompanying them while they make that walk.
The most beguiling part though, she is going to put on that heel, stand up, barely hold on to her emotions the rest of the ceremony and step happily into a life of more servitude than even the moment this photo was taken.  I don’t mean she’s going to ‘hitch’ herself to a horrible man ( notice the use of man here, I go there only because I’m assuming that women marry men, orpinterest_bride_putting_shoes_on_6_3_2018 they magically find a man instead of a horny boy ) but that she is willingly giving herself less freedom.
The relationships with other boys are supposed to stop.  She’s supposed to stop flirting at work, if she even did in the first place, because lets face it, flirting has turned into a semi dangerous affair ( again, not a bad pun but a real use of a real word. )
No more special relationships with other guys or at least nothing secret.
Everything is supposed to be in the open.
When I was hanging out last night, us girls ended up a bar largely because they had the room and we all felt like sipping or drinking something instead of eating away our ( my ) sorrows and/or adding to ourselves physically while emotionally we remove mental baggage.
The calories aside, things can tend to get interesting with a bunch of women sipping mixed colory drinks or asking for a 2nd ( or 3rd ) margarita.
No one went overboard, but as we’re all chatting about all the things in our lives, they deftly gave me the floor for a good bit of the night.  I didn’t call ‘the boy’ any evil names, I may have wrote our married name down a couple of times and possibly ripped those papers up.  I may have deleted his contact and texts from my phone, I even may have changed my Netflix password because there is NO way he gets that! However, I did cry, and it’s so ridiculous, because this didn’t happen recently, it’s been some time, the breakup was months ago.
They’ve all been there, and while everyone agreed with me, they tried to nicely say that it was the ‘right’ thing, he wasn’t the ‘right’  boy. Though, in a lot of ways it only meant that for those who are married, or even dating, they knew in their hearts that they found the ‘right’ man. They also know why I haven’t, or some inkling.  I have wonderful friends, and they don’t know about this blog so they’re not going to know what I’m saying, but this is what I’m saying.  Everyone around that table knew knew KNEW that those who had the ‘right’ relationship were giddy that it was working, and they had ‘some’ amount of guilt being thankful that they weren’t me.
WHY?
WHY DO WE ALL WANT MARRIAGE SO BAD?
WHY DO WE WANT THAT SPECIAL SOMEONE?
I only ask because those same girls were happily complaining about their men.  He leaves his shirts all over the place.  He doesn’t like to wash his hands before a meal?
????? REALLY ?????
He doesn’t like this, or that. Yesterday you WON’T believe what he said about this!
I appreciated their complaints but they rang hollow. At the very least they rang hollow because I knew they were all trying to make me feel better.  Sure, some of them are having some real issues, and they are real issues that I don’t have, but they are dealing with them as a couple, as a twosome. I’m stuck as a onesome.
I want someone to be mad at because he doesn’t pick up after himself.
I want to have someone to come home to me.
I want someone to love me back.
I want to get dressed in the morning and have someone kiss me goodbye.
I want to have breakfast, and then have someone else get up and have breakfast with me ( it can even be a second breakfast or dinner, or brunch. )
I want the cold nights cuddled up together.
I want to fight with someone about money, decorating, or the something or the something else.
I want to have someone to do stuff with.
I want to. Not. Be. Lonely.
If I do a Google search on marriage I’ll find millions of people saying how hard it is, is it worth it for men?  Is it worth it for women? Everyone knows about couples in counseling, divorce happens all the time.
These are all horrible hard things, things I don’t have to worry about.
The people out there who make a living talking about marriage seem to say that it is ‘dying’ or that maybe it is an institution possibly not as important as previously thought. There are a lot of women who happily type about equality, and sleeping around, and how women can do that like men. They say that they need no one but themselves for happiness.
A lot of boys will happily keep dating around forever, no plans to stop their lives, or gasp have children and responsibilities!
If any of them are right, then why don’t I feel that way?
Why do I have to keep reminding myself that ‘I’m happy!’
I just wish I didn’t have to tell myself I have it all.
I wish I didn’t have to remind myself that getting up in the morning and doing everything alone is the greatest thing ever.
I wish my heart didn’t rip wide open when I stared at some photo of a strange woman putting on her shoe before she stands up, puts her arm in the arm of someone who after a small walk together will happily pass her into the arms of a man also willing to be tied only to her. I don’t know her, but I can’t seem to talk myself out of the fact that her life is better than mine, and I want what she has.
If all the things keep telling me that marriage is sooo hard, why do I want it so bad?
~Morgan
Image Credit: happywedd.com

Behind the Curtain

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I’ve spent my short life getting to this point.  I stand here behind the curtain.  The silken sparkly trap hiding me from the masses.
My body is toned and healthied to within an inch of starvation. I’m emotionally voided. My smile is plastered as naturally as the sun shines on the masses.  Perfectly manicured nails jut out from flawless fingers to slide my hand slightly from side to side. My legs stand smoother than the bottom of any baby. Exfoliated, professionally managed every day.  My bikini shows flawless smooth hairless almost pubescent, it is pearlescent.  My auburn mane is staggeringly beautiful each curl pulled every evening, hairnet slept regardless the day, incredible body like oiled springs bobbing with my every movement.  The dress I have on today costs more than the salaries of the people sitting in the first two rows. The beaded silk bodice flows with my body almost as if it was grown for me. The skirt, set above the knees holds slightly billowed with light crinoline tapering from my waist.  My breasts heave with my breath, shorter as I wait, they now hold themselves plump and alert after this years’ surgery.
I am the embodiment of perfection. I exult beauty. I am what they all want to see, to touch, to imagine. I’m the reason for the affairs, anger, and sadness in their lives. They all want to be what they see in me.
I am the exact representation of female perfection.
The stage was clear, the audience waited in anticipation for the next show. They had paid dearly for their tickets. The demand had been so great that the show sold out before most even had a chance to order.  There was no band playing, soft, excited mutterings were the only noises in the vast theater holding many thousands of spectators.  The show would start on time promptly at 21:00 hours.  At exactly 20:58:23 seconds the curtain started to spread open. It moved slowly both because it was part of the show and to keep the expectations high. The silent motors whirred against the wind as the silk curtains slid across the marble floor of the stage. At 20:59:32 the audience slowly started to gasp as they were able to get a look at the very specimen they were here to see.  There was only silence at 21:00 when the AD009.4 strode forward from its holding position.  Though, to all in the audience they knew the machine only as Eve.