Sorry About The Clothes On My Back Being In The Way When You Stabbed Me

“I have been staying awake at nights, wondering if I should tell you.”

— Unknown

“I stand outside looking at the moon, thinking of you somewhere also bathed in its light.”

i was a lover, you were a lesson.

GREY.

How the worlds gone grey,

all the colors left.

I hear that you’re ok.

Don’t you have any regrets?

All the struggles,

All the pain,

All the time I wasn’t ok.

All the years,

All the hurt,

All the times I wished I wasn’t yours.

I stopped going to therapy,

not because I thought I’d manage;

I didn’t go because it’s not fair,

For me to pay the repairs of your damage.

You got off Scott-free,

and I’m not at all shocked,

but I know it’s not me…

It was you who caused,

This slow motion car crash.

All these years later, I still have

the bruises and the whiplash,

but you don’t have a scratch.

I replay it frame by frame,

Incinerated in my brain,

So I could forever torture myself

Asking myself again,

What did I do wrong?

Was it me?

Did I ask too much?

What did you need?

What could I have done,

differently?

Or even worse,

was it you and not me?

LOVE, DEAR ABBY

“i dream for the day you give me your heart, because i will hold it closer than i hold my own.”

- abby

“he only saw her light for a fraction of time, yet he would never forget her sunrise.”

- abby

DRAWER.

I get the feeling and a strange sense,

that you’re glad that I escaped, that from there I left.

When our towns daily newspaper had talked about me,

I wonder if you bought that edition to see.

I wonder if somewhere you hide a secret drawer,

where you keep your memories and regrets,

Movie tickets, funeral cards,

newspaper clippings, and cassettes.

Do you go through that drawer while sitting on the couch,

The one my mother designed from the catalog?

That couch that has seen you through three marriages now,

The same one your new wife sits on?

I wonder what the difference between us is,

why we are the way that we are,

We don’t have many similarities;

The contrast is so stark.

Your opportunities were boundless,

You could’ve done anything,

your parents were married and owned their home,

you played sports in the spring.

But me, I didn’t have those privileges,

and it’s all because of you,

my childhood I spent bounced back-and-forth,

you divorced when I was two.

Mom raised me independently,

and independent I was raised to be.

Everything I’ve done is no part thanks to you.

Its all been because of me.

But even all these years later,

I know you’ve watched, and listened to the grapevine.

Even after everything that’s happened,

you’ve been proud of me all this time.

I wonder if someday when you’re gone and when I get that call,

I’ll go over to your place, survey, and start to comb through all,

your personal belongings, prized possessions, and some more,

But I wonder more than anything, if I’ll ever find that drawer…

LOVE, DEAR ABBY

Work on yourself.

Make your morning routine as invigorating as a cup of coffee.

Make the little moments throughout the day the big points you look forward to.

Make yourself your favorite person.

Make yourself put in the hard work to get out the most you can.

Make yourself someone you are genuinely proud of.

Make yourself reflect on the outside what you already were on the inside:

more than enough for them.

- abby

…

twelfth

fourteenth ❄️

eighteenth

LOVE, DEAR ABBY

“i gave the clothes off my back, just for you to stab me.”

- abby