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skeletons in my closet

 

the skin is so tender there,

so soft, so smooth.

i’m surprised at how easily it

opens for me.

like grating cheese

or cutting off a pat of butter.

it just opens up ~

yielding ~

and offers my inner secrets to

the bathroom tile.

and out seep my skeletons,

and cascade to my feet

like a little gothic convention

gathering in the night.

and they

drip. drip. drip.

down to the ground

as though they have jumped from the

highest cliff

headlong

into the sea of grief

and sorrow

which is myself

and my skin.

and my bathroom floor.

which is now collecting these

secretive, skeletal remains

and is busy hiding the secrets

in cracks and

crevices.

a splash here, a splash there,

a little sticky clump on the

sink, even.

it clumps up so fast, into

stringy little ropes, which makes

me wonder ~

are the skeletons trying to

form a rope on purpose?

are they trying to climb back

up

into my head to keep

hiding from the world?

or are they just trying to kill me?

‘cuz i can do that myself.

All In

 

My new phrase right now is, “I’m all in”. I don’t play poker, but I appreciate this particular part of the game, this “do or die” kind of movement. It’s a philosophical statement to me, and I have to apply it to my life right now.
There have been times in my life when I have backed out of things. The oil painting class I started and bailed on after the very first meeting, once I discovered that as a fifteen year old, I was the youngest in the class by about fifty years. The dance class I took one time, and quit for pretty much the same reason. I quit a job after one day, I joined a modeling agency and then changed my mind, I lasted as a volunteer fire fighter for one volunteer. I started training to become a rappelling instructor, but couldn’t quite finish that one last test of crossing the wire 84,000 feet in the air. I’d managed all the other tests, but that last one just took the piss out of me.

And I know how to back out of relationships. I know how to make a guy crazy so he leaves me. I know how to run away from a guy when he starts to feel too strongly for me, or starts to see the “real” me. I know how to pick losers that I will eventually get bored with, or flight risks that I know won’t be able to stay around for too very long due to their nature.

What I haven’t known how to do was open up.

I haven’t known how to let someone in to that little part of my heart that has always been guarded. I haven’t known how to tell someone my darkest secrets, and trust that they won’t trounce all over my soul. I’ve made attempts to share my dark secrets and icky skeletons with men I cared about, but it’s never really worked out well for me. Usually I can’t actually say what I want, or they freak out and run away from my too much intensity kind of self.

I’ve heard many times that when you least expect it, and when you aren’t looking for it, love comes along. And yes, I understand that there are no guarantees. There are no sure bets and no fixed outcomes. Love may not come for me in the way that I’m hoping it will. The odds may stack themselves up against me, and I may well end up broken hearted, devastated, empty handed. I may be pushing all my chips in to the table only to find that my pair of two’s isn’t quite enough to win that delicious pot that is worth the risk of it all.

But who can say? Who can say what the future is? How do I know what the path ahead holds for me? I wish only the best for my fellow players in this round; I wish success and happiness for all. I mean no harm to those I bet against, and no disrespect to those I ante up to. I’m not trying to trick those at my table, deceive anyone with my hidden tells, or coerce the outcome I desire by manipulation or seduction. I mean only to throw in my lot with the rest of those at hand, and see how I come up.

Because at this point, what else can I do?  To win big, I must risk it all.  To find that which I desire, I must sacrifice some of the safety I have. To walk away with the spoils, I must give everything I own. And it’s crazy. It’s insane. It makes no logical sense, and there is no reason I should do it. What I should do is walk it off.  Shake it off.  Sleep it off. I should pick up my belongings and cash in my chips at the door. I should go saunter up to that cute bartender and see if he doesn’t have something that will cure my ails. Maybe that would be the more logical choice.

But I can’t. Because I’m already in. I’ve already fallen in. I’m ALL in.

my dungeon

it’s getting harder and harder to hide

my dark secrets.

i run to my hidey-hole

and find it’s full.

i open the hidden door

and the skeletons start to fall into

the aisles of my life.

shoving them back in is hard work

and takes a toll on me.

must i find another spot to go?

all my caches

and closets

and secret passageways

are flowing over…

and while it’s hard to imagine

exposing it all to the light,

where else am i to put

my innards

now that the dam has burst

and there isn’t enough space in

my dungeon?