SerenitySavage

20 years can drip slowly down a drain, but the memories eventually cause a clog. I have had to grit my teeth through this entire day that would have been my 20th wedding anniversary. It stings more than I think it should. The divorce was 8 years ago. My story doesn’t feel real anymore when I tell it, but my brain’s muscle memory won’t let me forget.  Every man that I have cared about since him has been nothing but a shadow of my ex husband. It’s like they all fell out of the same tree. Emotionally unavailable. Liars. Cheaters. Good CHRISTIAN men. The pattern is relentless and exhausting. That man took so much from me. He stole what my idea of marriage was and incinerated it. He took my youth and he wasted all of my trust without the slightest hint of remorse. There is no way to repair that. But he will never take away Marianna’s first two points in a basketball game. He doesn’t get to see Luca hit his first triple in baseball. He won’t get to see Anthoni graduate later this year an...

I am much louder  Whenever I write  Than when I must speak  My written ink is Far more elegant Than my banshee screech And though my metaphors Don’t always penetrate The Meta force I use her to keep my  Words and mind in line Social media is My arrogant pantomime 

I met this man recently He was a vibrant red Spicy like Fra Diavolo  I foolishly still wonder  Why I was left burnt Ashed out of his existence  One time I loved a yellow A man so bright I had to squint my eyes He folded me Into the most exquisite  Self assured version of myself I am the most purple Of anyone I have ever known Royally resilient  With just a touch Of violet violence  Napoli blue His deceit so true Abandonment  Nearly ruined me The worst example from The red white and green Her aura was brown Plain and nondescript  My best friend That left me behind To deal with all of Her own shit Black was the color  Of his brutal energy  Dripping of deeds Done in the dark A man whose compass Only points to hell She’s a green goddess Planting purposeful seeds  To cultivate her own beauty Her flowers transcend  Bringing patience and peace To last long after she is gone At one point or another I have fumbled Every color of this wo...

I have over $100,000 in medical bills every year. That figure is just for my medication alone, it doesn’t count any hospitalizations, procedures or scans that I may need. That’s at least $100,000 a year, on a single persons wages and as the sole provider to three children, for the rest of my life.  This gelatinous mutant of a human being wants to take my insurance away just because it has Obama’s name attached to it. It has always been one of his top priorities. He has no replacement plan, and even if he did, it would only benefit himself. There are people that I love that will RUN to the polls to vote for this guy, even though everyone in the entire goddamned world knows what a crap human being he is in every way imaginable. This man is an absolute threat to my health and livelihood. At this point, if you’re still voting for a known r@pist facing 91 felonies, you are also a threat to me. And I don’t take kindly to threats around these parts.

My worst times are when I have a troublesome day and there is no one to talk to about it. I have no one to share mine or my kids everyday accomplishments or problems with. I can not give these burdens to my children. It’s just us. They will have enough of their own trauma to deal with as they get older but I hope they won’t ever experience this type of loneliness.  The man I made these children with, tattooed their names on his skin before leaving the country three years ago. I wonder if he wants to dig the letters of their names from his skin like he did from his life. So I just swallow my bad days. They leave my guts eternally burning. I cover my trauma in flowers. At least it’s more pleasing to the eye. And I write, because I am the loudest on paper. My ink can be an ear piercing screech into the void. I know how to make you listen.

This evening before bed, my daughter and I were talking in her room. Somehow we got on the topic of her father, who she hasn’t seen or heard from since June of 2021.  She asked me, “What was his name again?” I don’t know who to feel more sorry for. The man that doesn’t know how amazing his daughter is, or my baby, who doesn’t even know her own daddy’s name at the age of 9. I hope that you see this. I hope you feel what you’ve done, every day for the rest of your miserable life. His name was Pierluigi Scotto di Carlo. I wish that I could forget it too.

I warm my face With the flames Of the bridges I burn  The brightness of the fire Squints my eyes  Into double vision  Until I can see clearly again The ashes of passion Float off on a cold breeze Until my brain scorches  And the embers start to Taste like self love again And I remember  I am The only One For me