Walked Away

(unsent letters to CJM trilogy, part 03)

you just walked away -
and we really got no say.
it wouldn't have mattered anyway -
it wouldn't have changed how you feel.

we we're the one you chose -
started as debate foes.
devil of a detail we suppose -
'cuz now we're left here to heal.

some of the things you say -
leave people in disarray.
the transactional games you play -
make us wonder if your love was real.

when it was just us and you -
there was nothing "we" couldn't do.
if "we" could have just made it through -
the derby day deal...

But then everything changed up -
If we could - turn back the clock -
If you could - learn to forgive "us" -
Then we could feel.

if you could just walk away -
what does that really say -
but it doesn't matter anyway -
you never cared how we feel

2021.06.23 @ 0230

Just Your Way

(unsent letters to CJM trilogy, part 02)

You rarely said I love you,

   unless we'd made you cum.

You never felt our magic,

   'cause your world is balance and sum.

But We're Alright -

It Is Just Your Way.

You didn't give "us" a chance,

   you want stable but you always move.

You won't believe in someday,

   and your actions create the proof.

So many things around you

   you value substance less then style.

You say you want the long run,

   but you only try for a short while.

And We're Alright -

Yes We're Alright -

It's Just Your Way.

The Way That You Have Found -

The Way To Let Yourself Down -

Yes- It's Just Your Way

You never accepted gestures, you calculated the cost.

You never felt the magic, 'cause you think that love has it out for you. . .

But We're Alright -

That's Just Your Way.

2021.06.22 @ 1700

We Had You

(unsent letters to CJM trilogy, part 01)

We’d write about your love,

   but we don't think it was real.

So we sit here numb,

   ‘cos that’s easy to feel.

Remember the touch of your mind,

   and how one so sweet turn so unkind. 

You told us about him,

   drunk on shitty canned wine.

If we’d known love had a time limit,

   at the start we would have declined.

We didn't know it then but we do now,

   all “our” transactions were complete. 

Like Shooting Stars “We” Just Burned Out - 

Shining So Bright, In Our Headlong Flight - 

Without A Fight You Gave Up And Left -

Now We’re Wondering What The Fuck We Should Do -

We Had It All - 

Or So We Thought -

Then We Had You.

Now we never needed you to fix us,

   though in your mind you needed to.

We are well aware that “we”,

   could have had glory.

But like F. Scott and Zoey,

   this is the end of “our” story.

We sit here tonight,

   alone with our heart.

Alone with our memories,

   and the future we thought.

We said “I love you” first,

   we meant it then and it ain't left us yet.

Like Shooting Stars “We” Just Burned Out - 

Shining So Bright, In Our Headlong Flight - 

Without A Fight You Gave Up And Left - 

And We’re Wondering What The Fuck We Should Do - 

We Had It All, -

Or So We Thought - 

Then We Had You.

We Had It All - 

Or So It Seemed - 

We Had It All - 

Then We Lost You. 

 2021.06.21 @ 2145

THE GO BAG

“THE GO BAG”

This is going to be long, so I apologize in advance.  The names have been changed, except mine, to protect the innocent/guilty.

Approximately 6 years ago I had what can only be described as a cataclysmic disaster of a relationship with T.A.  Long story short, I finally got her out of my house and life the night *SHE* was arrested for Domestic Violence.

Military 1 Source hooked me up with 10 free visits with a therapist. I saw him and his partner (because on multiple occasions they would tag team me WWE style in sessions) three times a week for the first month, then once a week for the next three months, then once every three months, then once every six months.

I also at this time retreated to "my cave" (the garage actually) and built up walls to protect myself from ever getting hurt like this again. I built them high and thick, and thought that I was so smart.  Once a week I would force myself out of the cave and go to my VFW  and I was the 'anti-social butterfly'. I also continued my three and six month sessions.

In February of this year two things happened. First, I realized the walls I'd built for protection, had become my prison.  Second, I met C.J., someone worth coming out of my cave for. She was smart, witty, and beautiful.  She was challenging and intoxicating. But, mindful of the walls I was slowly dismantling I did and said nothing, she actually had to make the first move in establishing a friendship.

By mid March we were talking everyday, and I realized I was in love with this stunning, amazing woman.  My roommate helped me plan our first date, 31 March. For the next 31 amazing days we were an actual loving, and in love couple, actually arguing about who "the lucky one" was.  It was everything I ever dreamed about.  I thought, all that hard work in therapy is finally paying off.

and then, it was over. . .

Why and how are no longer relevant, neither is what we have done since that night.

Devastated, I called my therapist, who said "Johnnie, your next check up is still three months away". I said, "yeah, about that, how soon can I come in?"  Once again I found myself seeing these guys three times a week, and as of Thursday, they have decided to go back to once a week (progress, however slow, is still progress).

But, to finally get to the point of this story, and explain the title (I did warn you this would be long) . I'm going back to Fort Carson tomorrow (Monday) and will be returning Saturday. As I started packing for the trip this morning, I found my go bag. (an overnight bag for those who don't understand the reference).  See, I had  spent more time at her home then my house during April, so the go bag had become an essential piece of gear, and I found it this morning, still packed and ready to go.

So I unpacked it. Shoes, socks, shirts, pants, hygiene, meds, and memories.  Beautiful memories, sad memories, painful memories.  With all of this stacked neatly on my bed, I stared at that empty bag and felt. . .

Shame. Vulnerability. Fear. Remorse. *AND* Gratitude.

Unpacking that bag, and acknowledging everything it held, I found release and gratitude (and I cried, HARD). 

I truly wish C.J. the very best in life, I love her (part of me always will).  I hope someday she reaches a point where we can sit down, like the friends we once were, and we can talk everything out. More importantly I need to be able to tell her how grateful I am for her, and the time we shared.

If you’ve made it this far, thank you.  Hopefully purging my scarred soul (now you know where ‘Skarsoul’ came from) hasn’t been a downer on your fathers day celebrations.

2021.06.20 @ 1530