Collector.

I guess I should be flattered. Imitation is the greatest form of flattery, they say.

Let me get the record straight though.

I was not around when you started dating him. It was well and truly over by the time you both started seeing each other. That is no word of a lie. I am not a character in your romantic fiction, so remove me from that story. It offends me that you’d use me as some sort of dramatic plot device.

I can see that you are a collector. But you are collecting things that are not yours and things that were not easily won.

I’m not an owner of these people, places or vocations, but it disturbs me greatly that you’re cultivating the very elements that make me, me.

I’ve encouraged you to write about your sexual assault, your mental health struggles, your bisexuality, your work and writing. I’m not a gatekeeper – it just feels convenient that these come to light a day or two after I’ve shared my own.

If you’re looking for a path travelled and cleared; one that works and ends in success, this aint it.

Streaks.

What are those? he asked, tracing the purple streaks on my hips.

Stretch marks, I said, a blush filling my cheeks.

He sensed my shame and he kissed those streaks and said he loved them, just like he loved the rest of my body.

It wasn’t contrived like you’d expect. It was exactly what I needed; what I thought I’d asked for from him but never received.

I was grateful he’d never answered Polo when I’d called Marco in the past. He instead gave what he wanted to give in that moment.

That made it all the more real and precious.

Dating twice.

I had a chat with a friend who is dating her partner for the second time round. I wanted to know why people choose to date someone more than once. What makes it different the second time and how do you make it work when it hasn’t before? Turns out they’re doing something right: they’ve recently gotten engaged ❤

 

 

References discussed:

Enneagram

Secret Lover

I am no-one’s secret, lover

I am a prize, just as you are

As I hope I showed you

I don’t only exist in the dark

when you need an ear, a cuddle, or to come.

I’ve needs and thoughts and I hoped you cared

enough to see them in the light, too

I just wanted you to hold my hand in the street

where people would see us

because I am no-one’s secret lover

 

Pieces

I am the in between one

a bridge between two others

I will gather all your pieces

when you thought them lost

painstakingly discover them

through long conversations

filled with hair stroking

kissed fingertips, tears

and all of my labour

and once I find all the parts

I’ll glue you back together

Make you see how perfect you are

how perfect you were already

perfect enough for you to thank me

and to float on to the next

and for me, tomorrow

there’ll be another almost-whole

to discover, collect and embrace

but what about my pieces?