Calendar of My Broken Heart

I still cry...
             
              do    you    think    that

                                              I
                                                            am
                                                                          weak?

On December 23rd, 2005
                      in a dingy apartment
                                              near Freemont and 13th street
                                   
                                 
                                        my life

                                  f  l  a  s  h  e  d

                                          before
   
                                          my
                             
                                          eyes.

I lay
      strangled
                  in Lamar's hands,

                                    his skin black
                                        and
                                    his muddy eyes
                                        pierced
                                      m y  s o u l

             
                              g  a  s  p  i  n  g

for

          just

                one

                              breath

at my attacker's



                    m  e  r  c  y



  he spared my life after one word
                                   

                                                                    escaped


                                      my lips:


                                 
                                  J  E  S  U  S.



I learned to appreciate something
                                        so simple,
                                                      that I had taken for granted.



I learned to appreciate every breath I took.


Every day after that was a miracle to be alive.
I spendt Christmas in a shelter for battered women.
I called you,
              Robert,
but you were not there.
This is when my heart broke completely.

January's icy wind
froze
my heart
as I spendt day after day
in shock
and disbelief.
The bitter agony
of the situation
cast a shadow upon me
that I will carry with me for the rest
of my days.
I cannot erase the trauma
or the memories
that haunt me.
Finally one day,
you answered the phone.
I told you what Lamar had done to me,
but you didn't believe me.
Your voice sounded distant, empty, and unloving.
I was homeless and sick with the flu.
I told you I was calling from a payphone
down the street from your house,
but you wouldn't help me, comfort me,
or come to my rescue.
You didn't sound gratefull that I was alive.
You didn't seem to care about me
or my life.


Homeless again,
                  I picked up the pieces of my
                                                     
                                                     
                          b              h            t
                            r      n          e      r
                              o  e              a
                                k
         
---------------------and sewed them together with my tears.------------------------


February
came and I couldn't help but be hopefull
that you would come around.
I bought you a card,
filled with images of
wild stallions
(I used to call you my pony,
remember?)
and pictures of lovers embraced
to remind you of the
once in a lifetime
chemistry
that was created only when
our souls would meet
and our hearts kissed.
I filled these cards with words of love,
but you were nowhere to be found.
I spendt Valentine's Day
in a hotel room
overlooking Las Vegas.
I thought the tears
would never end.

With so much time on my hands,
I began to make you a scrapbook,
filled with our memories.
I  included the hospital papers
from the emergency room after the attack,
to show you the truth.
I prayed to see you again.
I called you from the phone I used to use
when we were in love,
and finally you answered.
I asked you if you missed me and you said
"Sometimes...",
and your voice cracked.
I tried to explain my pain
and what I was going through without you,
my love.
You weren't ready to see me,
but I had been preparing.

March
brought kisses to my heart,
for no longer did I have to wait
to see your preciouse face.
Finally the time had come,
as I'd hoped it would.
Downing Washington Apple martinis,
I sat at the bar,
dressed in red.
I waited so long that I began to cry
because I thought that you were going to
stand me up.
But at the last minute,
you walked through the door.
Time stood still for us,
as it always did
when we were together.
But I could sense immediately
that you were with another woman.
Oh, but I loved you,
I love you,
I couldn't stop myself from loving you
even if I tried.
In desparation,
I kissed you,
threw myself at you,
brought you to my apartment
with every intention of making love to you.
But you told me that you would not
leave her,
so I could not be with you.
Oh, you are so good with this heart of mine
that you know how to
perfectly break.

April
      rained
              on
                  my
                          parade
                                        and
                                              there 
                                                              were
                                                         
                                                                            no
                                                                                    flowers
                                                                                                in
                                                                                                          May.

        And so the truth was unveiled, and I had to live with the rejection of the one I love choosing a sugar momma
over me, a Mrs. Robinson-like, old enough to be my mother hag. You said she offered you "security". Well, that was something that she had on me, being that I was homeless when you got together. So I got with a "security" guard to find out if security was all it was cracked up to be. He offered me protection from Dan, an evil pimp who had been threatening to shoot me and my entire family for the past year.

        But by
                  June
                          I was laying in a hospital bed in the emergency room on a "Legal 2000", a 72 hour suicide watch. I ended up there after getting beat up 3 times in 24 hours by some associates of mine. I had a dent in the side of my face-it was permanent. I was fed up of being treated like shit and wanted to die. After talking to some people in the hospital, I realised there was still hope for me. Once again, I picked myself up again, piece by piece, and tried to hold my head up high.

        The end of June came, and it had now been a year since the day me and Rob had met. Memories of last summer clouded my mind, he was everywhere I looked, in the air I breathed. It was not intentional.My mind longed to return to the place where we once were, the beginning, before the drama unraveled. Wishing to go back to a place where I could never be again, it wasn't fair of me to desire something that could never be. But I am known to be self destructive in my ways, to say the least. It is so very unfortunate.

      There were no fireworks in my hotel room on Fourth of July, only tears.


    August came, and my birthday came and went. I spendt it alone this year. Last year you stood me up on my birthday. This year, when I remembered that, I called and cussed your ass out.

    Trying to build up some type of self-worth, I sobered up and swore off sex altogether in September. If others wern't going to have any value on my body, I was going to have to. Finally my good karma caught up to me, and by October I was working in the best club in Vegas.

  My success seems to keep my mind off of you, Robert.

  It is now December, and it has been a year since I dumped you. I don't seek revenge with what I am writing, only peace and clarity of what happened. I know I may seem pathetic, but this is what I must do in order to move on.


                  As the smoke clears, some memories return that were never meant to be forgotten, only locked away
until a later point in time where I could process them. How was I supposed to deal with being physically abused by a man that I loved? I'm tired of beating myself up and being walked on. Tired of being mistreated by others. Rob, you touched my life and scarred me for life. The bad outweighs the good. I idolised you. Why did you instigate? Why did you endure pleasure in causing me pain? You continuously hurt me physically, emotionally, mentally, sexually, and spiritually. Did you set out to make me fall? To bring me to a state of paradox only to push me and watch me crumble to the ground...Did you plan it? I don't think you loved me at all. Why did you choose the lesser? Left here with questions and no answers, and Rob still blames me, never truly accepting responsibility for his actions. I took his abuse and still loved him, would have been with him, thank God he is preoccupied. I know in my heart I deserve better. When someone abuses you, it breaks you down, confuses you and your spirit. Rob's disguise has fallen off and the fact that he is nothing but a woman beater has now been exposed, thanks to me. He wore this disguise in order to manipulate others. He only allowed me to see a small portion of who he really is, and did so with such presicion that I was mislead into believing he was sincere. Mislead into believing he was capable of loving. But monsters can't love. He chose to break me, crush my heart and my spirit, to abuse me.

        God took you away from me. It hurt him to watch you burn me, beat me , drag me by my hair, choke me, belittle me. Robert, you are extremely sadistic and need help. Maybey you are possesed by demons. I hope you get help. Either way, stay the fuck away from me.

        I mistook love for abuse.

        I'm gratefull just to be alive, gratefull for each breath that I take.

                                   
                                    Time to say Goodbye to him...

                                                            it's all downhill from here.